


why would i shake your hand (when i could shake your bed)?

by mediocre_fanfics



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, And they were roomates!, Drunk Bucky Barnes, Drunken Flirting, F/M, Fluff, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Slow Burn, Teacher Steve Rogers, Weddings, graphic designer bucky, guys they're both literally dumb, roomate au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:35:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24247366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mediocre_fanfics/pseuds/mediocre_fanfics
Summary: It was the sweetest kind of torture, having Bucky so close to him but knowing that in the morning it would all be over. It was made entirely better and worse when they got into the apartment and Bucky locked his arms around Steve's waist, letting his head fall onto his chest and murmuring something he couldn't quite catch.Steve put his arms around Bucky as well, convincing himself that it was because he was worried his friend would fall and not because it broke his heart to deny him any affection."What was that, Buck?"He couldn't help but smile as Bucky met his eyes, looking like he might fall asleep right then and there."You're my favourite, Stevie. My best guy in the world."OR: Steve and Bucky are roomates, and Steve is hopelessly in love. Bucky drunk kisses him after a wedding, but that doesn't mean anything. (or does it???)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 94
Kudos: 317





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title from Kamikaze Lovers by The Wombats (give it a listen!!)

Music blared through the banquet hall, the dance floor a tidal wave of noise and movement despite the fact that the crowd was dwindling. Steve was sitting just on the outside of it at the groomsmen's table with Sam, unable to stop himself from grinning as he set down his champagne flute.

He spotted Natasha on the dance floor, a vision in white. She was stunning, bright red hair in a loose and elegant braid with eyeliner that could probably cut Steve's face open. Her dress hugged her figure up until her mid-thigh and then flowed out, making Steve pretty sure if he was into girls he'd be a goner for her. Sam must of seen her as well, for he leaned over to Steve after taking a sip of his own drink.

"Who would've thought Clint would be the first of us to get hitched? And to  _Nat_?" 

Steve laughed, shaking his head. "Remind me to beat his ass if he messes this up somehow." 

Nat and Clint were total opposites, but somehow the complete idiot that Sam and Steve knew had managed to tie the knot with the scariest woman any of them had ever met. 

The wedding had been one hell of a time, but the night was winding down and Steve was ready to leave. That meant he had to find Bucky. Since they were roomates, so he and Steve had come together. That also meant they had to leave together. He cursed internally, because he'd seen Bucky and Valkryie doing shots earlier. Those two were a dangerous combination, as neither knew when to stop when it came to liquor.

Leaning over to Sam, he called, "let me know if you see Bucky." 

Sam nodded with a smile that was a little too knowing, both of them starting to scan the floor for him.

Bucky had been Natasha's best friend for so long, she had somehow managed to make him maid of honour (' _ Because I said so, Barnes, that's why' _ ). 

Also, he happened to be the love of Steve's life.

Steve was harshly reminded of this when he spotted the man stumbling through the crowd, arm in arm with a guy that Steve was pretty sure was their friend Thor's brother, Loki. And fuck, Bucky looked good. He also looked drunk as hell.

The eyeliner that Natasha had managed to wrestle onto him at the beginning of the night was now smudged, making bright eyes look even brighter against a smoky backdrop. What had started as an elegant updo now resembled a messy bun, soft brown hair slipping loose from it to frame flushed cheeks. He was laughing, leaning against the other man's slightly bigger frame. 

Something in Steve's chest twisted, noticing Loki tuck a stray lock behind Bucky's ear. Despite the fact that Steve was head over heels for Bucky, he'd long accepted the fact that it was a one-way thing. Still, he couldn't help that it always felt like a punch in the gut whenever he saw him with anyone else.

Just then, Sam saw them as well, laughing out loud. "Damn, Steve, you better get your boy before Loki eats him alive." 

"Shut up," he gritted out, thinking about how he could get out of this. They'd taken Bucky's car,  goddammit , so Steve couldn't leave without getting in the middle of the inebriated couple.

With another look, he saw that Bucky was now beaming with glassy eyes, and Loki was smiling giddily back. It was obvious that they were both equally hammered, which made Steve feel a liftle better- if anybody had been taking advantage of Bucky, he was sure he would've ruined the wedding by clocking them then and there.

He could try to take him home- odds are that wouldn't end well, he and Loki were glued at the hip. So his best bet was to get the keys and drive home by himself, leaving the two of them to do whatever they wanted in the peace- sure, it was sad as fuck, but it was the best plan he had. He would call Bucky in the morning and see if he needed to be picked up.

"Guess I better go in." Steve sighed as he stood up, rolling his eyes when Sam gave him a good-natured slap on the ass. 

"Go get him, tiger," Sam teased, not bothering to stop laughing even under Steve's scathing look.

Steve continued walking, catching Bucky's eye just before he reached him and Loki.

"Stevie!" His eyes seemed to light up as he untangled himself from the other man, barrelling into Steve's chest.

Steve let out an ' _o_ _of'_ as Bucky flung his arms around Steve's neck. He may have been significantly smaller, but drunk Bucky sure packed a punch. Steve stood still for a second, unsure of what to do now. This hadn't been part of the plan.

Bucky's usual cologne was mixed with the scent of lime, mint, and plenty of vodka, and it didn't seem like he was letting go of Steve any time soon.

"Seems like he likes you," Loki chimed in, laughing drunkenly. "Lucky man, he's a pretty one." He seemed more amused than jealous, tilting his head as he watched the two of them for a second and then wandered back to the bar.

"Mm, Steve." Bucky somehow managed to press himself closer to Steve, who could feel himself turning an embarassing shade of red. He willed himself to think of things like dead puppies and open-heart surgery, anything but the warmth of Bucky's body plastered against his.

He managed to choke out a strangled, "uh, hey Buck," and wrap an awkward arm around Bucky's waist. 

_Get your shit together, Rogers. Don't get in too deep._

Steve took a minute to school his thoughts before saying anything else. Bucky wasn't in his right mind. This wasn't real. He knew if he gave in, if he didn't put some distance between the two of them, he'd just end up hurt in the morning. Back to the plan- going home.

"Uh, Buck, are you ready to go home? Do you have your car keys?" He looked down, and Bucky seemed to be- sniffing him? 

"Home." Bucky looked up at him, eyes wide and smile wider. "Home sounds good." Steve's sure his heart would have burst if he didn't look up to see Natasha approaching him with a wolfish grin.

"Finally make your move Rogers?" She arched one perfect eyebrow, looking from him to Bucky. 

There was nothing Natasha didn't know, so Steve wasn't suprised in the slightest that she was aware of his soul-crushing mind consuming love of Bucky Barnes.

"I-  _no_ , he-" His stammering came to a halt when Natasha lifted her hand to stop him, grin perhaps even wickeder. 

"He's shitfaced, isn't he?" 

At that point, Bucky seemed to finally notice Natasha, letting go of Steve to rush over to her.

"Nat!  _NatNatNat_ so pretty! You're such a pretty girl that if I liked girls you would be  _my_ pretty girl. Except you made  me the girl because I'm a maid now!" He'd taken both of her cheeks in his hands, sprinkling kisses all over her nose and forehead.

"Okay, Barnes." She took him by the shoulders, pulling him away from her despite the most adorable pout Steve had ever seen. If only he had that kind of strength. Natasha was barely containing her laughter, but somehow managed to as she spoke to Bucky. "You've been hitting the mojitos pretty hard. I love you. Go home with Steve." 

"Love you more," he slurred back, craning his neck to try to kiss one of her hands on his shoulders. "I'm gonna go home then, pretty girl." After a sloppy wink and a little waggle of his fingers, he turned back to Steve. "Hey, big boy. Take me home?" 

Steve gulped, nodding a little as Bucky put a hand on his chest. "Do you have your car keys?"

After he had finally gotten the keys, Steve endured a long car ride that he spent trying to drive and swat Bucky's wandering hands off his thigh at the same time, all while listening to a drunken acapella cover of Fergalicious (Bucky couldn't spell delicious but was determined to try until he got it).

He then half-lead half-carry him to their door, managing to unlock it even though Bucky refused to let go of his hand.

It was the sweetest kind of torture, having Bucky so close to him but knowing that in the morning it would all be over. It was made entirely better and worse when they got into the apartment, and Bucky locked his arms around Steve's waist, letting his head fall onto his chest and murmuring something he couldn't quite catch.

Steve put his arms around Bucky as well, convincing himself that it was because he was worried his friend would fall and not because it broke Steve's heart to deny him any affection.

"What was that, Buck?" 

He couldn't help but smile as Bucky met his eyes, looking like he might fall asleep right then and there.

"You're my favourite, Stevie. My best guy in the world." 

"I- you're my best guy too, Buck." And  _god_ , Steve meant it. He held Bucky a little closer, and laughed when he heard the other man let out something akin to a purr. "Now time for you to get some sleep."

"Sleepy time with Stevie," he hummed, letting Steve guide him to his bedroom.

Unfortunately when they got there, Bucky refused to let go. His arms stayed tight around him, despite all of Steve's best efforts to pry him off.

"Okay, Buck, time to let go. This is your bed." He leaned down a little in an attempt to shake Bucky onto the mattress. He realised it was a mistake too late, finding himself yanked down face first, completely on top of Bucky.

Bucky seemed satisfied, arms still around Steve even as he was pressed into the covers. 

_ Goddammit god fucking dammit this was  not happening right now. _

Steve managed to get up onto his hands, no longer crushing Bucky beneath him, and was met by a sight he wouldn't soon forget.

Big blue bedroom eyes framed with smudged, dark liner gazed up at him, dark hair now free of the bun and fanning around Bucky's head on the pillow. His pink tongue slipped out to dart over his lips, and Steve was frozen on the spot.

_Get out of there, Rogers. Now._

Just as built up the resolution to stand, Bucky surged up, pressing his lips against Steve's in a messy kiss.

Now he was fucked.

For a second, all Steve could do was taste sugar and vodka on his tongue,feel nimble fingers carding through his hair and scratching gently at his beard. Once more, he was unable to move. 

_Snap out of it._

Bucky was drunk. This wasn't right. He grabbed Bucky's arms, pulling them away from him and then standing up.

"No, Buck. This- it's not a good idea." 

Bucky gazed up at him, looking more sober than he had all night. He frowned a little, but quickly switched it to a pretty unconvincing smile. 

He was probably just needed some contact, and would regret kissing Steve at all when the morning came. It was crushing to think about that, but Steve returned the smile, which was probably even less believable than Bucky's. 

"Night, Stevie." Bucky's eyes were already closed as he wriggled under the covers.

"Night, Buck." Steve couldn't stop himself from brushing his knuckles against Bucky's forehead, and the little hum of pleasure that he got for that seemed completely genuine.

Before he could get more emotionally conflicted and fall deeper in love with Bucky (was that possible?) Steve moved his hand and headed back to his room.

When he got there, he couldn't help but touch his own cheek, skin still tingling where Bucky had touched him.

_He's shitfaced. It didn't mean anything. Get out of your head, Rogers_.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning Steve woke, all memories of last night flooding back into his head. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping if he kept them closed long enough he would magically forget everything. 

His mind was racing, full of memories and questions and feelings and  _Bucky_ . He was practically vibrating out of his skin, needing to move. 

Rolling out of bed, he grabbed a shirt and some sweatpants. A run would fix this. After he changed, he headed out. Bucky's door was still closed- he was probably still asleep, with a wicked hangover waiting for him when he woke. 

Getting his feet moving cleared Steve's head spectacularly. He got lost in the rhythm of his feet on the pavement, the puffs of his breath, the sweat on his brow.

He was grinning when he unlocked the door to the apartment, endorphins still rushing through him.

He had assumed Bucky would still be sleeping, but apparently he assumed wrong- because there was one hell of a hot mess sitting at the kitchen counter. And while Bucky was usually more 'hot' than 'mess', today was an exception.

His hair was a complete disaster, sticking up in places in a way that shouldn't have been so adorable. The eyeliner from last night was everywhere, including on the cuffs of the dress shirt he was still wearing. There was a bottle of pills next to him and he was gripping a cup of coffee, scowling at it like it had done him a personal wrong.

When he looked up, his expression softened. For a second ,  Bucky looked more vulnerable than Steve had ever seen him- sad, and a little scared. 

But before Steve could even begin to fathom why, the frown shifted into a lazy grin- the same charming, easygoing Bucky Barnes that the world knew and loved. His eyes shifted down to where the light material of Steve's running shirt stretched over his chest, and let out a little laugh. 

"You know, Steve, I think you might need a tighter shirt. Maybe try Children's Place next time." 

Steve blushed a little as he locked the door. His shirts were perfectly  _fine_ ,  thank you very much. "I hope your head hurts like hell." 

" God, fuck you!" Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing one with the heel of his hand. "It does, if that brings you some kind of twisted satisfaction."

The hand came away from his face with eyeliner on it, and Steve couldn't help but laugh despite the murderous look Bucky gave him.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Bucky's pain and suffering is  so damn funny."

" I'm sorry, you just look like the world's grumpiest racoon right now."

"I'm not  _ grumpy _ , Steve," he replied in a tone that Steve thought was fair to classify as pretty grumpy. "My plight is just unimaginable." 

"Unimaginable to anybody who hasn't pounded shots with Valkryie before," he countered as he got a glass out of the cupboard and started to fill it with water.

"That motherfucker better be in as much if notmore pain than me."

Steve took a sip of his water, watching bemusedly as Bucky tried to wrestle the cap off the medicine. 

"How many of those have you had?" 

"None of you're busine-  _ hey _ !"

With a swift motion, Steve managed to swipe the pills from Bucky.

"Buck, I know you. What I don't know is what I would do with myself if you tragically overdosed on liquigels." 

He turned away from Bucky, placing the pills in a high cupboard as he felt something smack against the back of his head.

"Ow!" Looking down, he saw it was a pen Bucky had thrown from counter. "Jerk," he murmured as he rubbed the spot where it had hit.

"Punk," Bucky replied smugly, assaulting Steve seemingly having put him in a better mood.

The two sat in amicable silence for a bit, Bucky sipping at his coffee and Steve his water. 

Everything was back to normal: the endless teasing and bickering that filled the apartment, Steve having to turn into a mother hen just to keep Bucky from dying every day, Bucky's frankly concerning level of cluelessness and Steve's endless pining. He was almost happy with it.

As Steve absentmindedly finished his water, he almost missed it when Bucky whispered his name. It was barely audible, and when Steve looked over at him, he saw Bucky's eyes were glued to his coffee.

"Yeah, Buck?" Steve's voice was slow and cautious- he had absolutely no idea where this was going.

When Bucky's eyes met his, Steve wanted nothing more that to wrap him up in his arms and make whatever was obviously hurting him go away forever. That glimpse of vulnerability Steve had seen earlier was now shining through, leaving Bucky looking small and timid. 

"I-" he paused, tension bulding as he sucked in a breath. "I'm sorry. I was out of line last night, and I just really hope I didn't make you uncomfortable."

_Oh_.  There it was- the regret. Steve had been certain it was going to come, the moment where Bucky made it clear that a friend was all Steve was and all he was ever going to be, but that didn't make it hurt any less. The kiss had been a mistake, and Bucky felt bad for leading him on. Of course.

Steve nodded slowly, trying to look as reassuring as possible. "It's okay, Buck. I get it.I just hope you know that next time I see you with Valkryie at a party I'm leaving your ass then and there."

That earned him a gentle laugh, a bit of the sparkle returning to Bucky's eyes. "Noted. Thanks, uh, for being so cool about it." 

"Always." He put his cup in the sink, noticing the half-full coffee pot in the machine as he did. "You want a top up?" 

"Nah." He heard the scrape of Bucky's chair, and then felt a hip bumping against his playfully so the smaller man could get to the sink. "I've got to shower and then head to the office, show Wanda a design." 

"You're kidding me. On a Sunday?" 

One of the things Steve loved (and hated) most about Bucky was that he was without a doubt the hardest worker that he knew. As a graphic designer for Stark Industries, Bucky was up at all hours drawing up designs on his tablet (on the nights he wasn't drinking until he couldn't walk). Bucky was the youngest designer at the company, and Steve could see the constant pressure he put on himself to perform. 

"It's kind of a big deal," Bucky called, already headed to the bathroom.

"Wait, hang on!" Steve was still covered in drying sweat from his run, clothes stuck to him. "I need to showe-"

"Not a chance, Rogers!" 

Before Steve could protest further, he heard the door shut and the water start to run. He cursed softly before heading over the couch, collapsing onto it and grabbing a stack of papers from the coffee table.

Steve was in the middle of marking reports- his tenth grade class had just finished their unit on neoclassicism. He was an art teacher at Midtown School of Science and Technology, which was an uphill battle most of the time. The kids were often much more interested in things like artificial intellgence and the hyperloop than they were in rococo architecture.

But all of the struggle to get the students to care was worth it, all the coersion and pushing and tough love. Because when Steve saw that spark in a student, that realization that maybe art wasn't so bad after all, it made him glow inside. 

The paper at the top of the pile was definitely one of the uphill battles. Flash had always been one of his weakest students. Not for lack of intelligence, but because the he refused to take any of the content in Steve's class seriously. He sighed as he read the title:  _How the hell is this going to help me work for Tony Stark?_ Kid had probably forgotten to change the title before he'd printed it.

He read through it, frowning. It was flippant, the writing making it obvious that Flash didn't care at all. The facts were entirely wrong, most of them not even close. Steve had never seen anybody else refuse to date paintings so adamantly, instead writing '(this sucks)' and '(who cares)' after their titles.

Grabbing for pen without looking, Steve went back and circled the title. Just as he was about to add a little question mark, he realised that the pen hadn't left a mark. Sighing, he shook it before looking at it and realising it wasn't a pen at all.

It was Bucky's stylus, the one he used to sketch on his tablet. Sleek white letters along the side read  _Stark Industries_. 

That was when it hit him- the perfect way to engage the kids.

Steve couldn't help himself from sprinting to the bathroom, banging on the door excitedly.

"Jesus, Steve, I'll be done in a minute!" Bucky's voice was barely audible over the running water. 

"It's not about the shower, Buck, I have an idea!" Steve didn't let up, hitting the door a couple more times before he heard the water shut off.

The door has barely opened when Steve began to speak.

"Buck, you have to come to Midtown! Come in and talk to the kids about your job! God, it would be so good, please come in this week!"

When the door was fully open he saw Bucky, dripping wet with a towel hanging low on his waist. Steve fought bravely to keep his eyes up, but couldn't help the quick swoop they did down the other man's body. He then noticed the incredulous look on his face.

"I don't do kids."

"But you  _ do _ do art! And tech!" Steve was grinning from ear to ear now. Bucky may have seemed like he wasn't interested, but Steve knew him- he was winning him over.

"What makes you think the little shits are even going to listen to me?"

"You work for Stark! The kids will hang off every word. Also you probably shouldn't call them little shits. I'm begging you here, Buck." 

"Begging me, huh?" Bucky quirked an eyebrow, smirking just a bit.

"Yes, you smug fuck," Steve grumbled, trying very hard to hide the fact that he found Bucky's snark amusing. "You owe me one after my babysitting job last night." 

"I woke up with my shoes on, Steve. It could've been more thorough." Bucky was teasing him now, but Steve knew he'd won.

"I'll tuck you in and read you a story the next time you drink irresponsibly."

"I'll hold you to that. Drunk Bucky likes Goodnight Moon." Now he was full-on grinning at him, which was  not making Steve feel warm and fuzzy inside at all.

"So you'll come in?" 

"I'll think about it. Now will you let me put on clothes, or are you enjoying this too much?" 

Steve turned bright red at that, Bucky's laugh sounding pretty evil as he pushed past him to get to his bedroom. 

"It's too easy to fuck with you, Rogers," he called over his shoulder.

"The kids are gonna love you," Steve called back, smiling to himself at the noise of pure distress that Bucky let out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chap is a bit longer, and features: bucky being stupid, steve's sweater, skittles, tony stark being a flirt, wanda being the only person in the world with common sense, steve being a bit of a possessive shit and a manchild (but still beautiful and perfect), and more bucky being stupid.

Bucky needed to get his shit together, desperately. He'd been doing fine, managing his stupid goddamn crush on Steve like a champ. But then he'd managed to destroy all his hard work, completely mess it up with just one kiss.

And now here he was, telling Steve that he would go to a high school to talk about graphic design when there was nothing in the world he hated more than teenagers.

Sighing, he towelled off his hair and began to dig through the basket of clean laundry in his room he hadn't bothered to fold. He could think about how the fact that he was in love with Steve was ruining his life later- now, he had to get into the office. His head throbbed as he grabbed a pair of jeans, throwing them onto his bed. Possibly the best thing about working at Stark Industries was that nobody gave two shits what you wore as long as you had good ideas.

He managed to find a shirt and socks, but couldn't for the life of him find a sweater. Bucky always found himself cold at the office- he'd stay the fuck home before going there in a tshirt alone. He decided to put on the outfit on the bed anyway, counting in the fact that there was a sweater of his lying around somewhere in the chaotic mess that was Steve and Bucky's apartment. He heard water running as he walked past the bathroom- Steve was in the shower.

There were papers and pens strewn on almost every flat surface, a couple worn paperbacks sitting on their ancient TV, Steve's jars of protein powder and Bucky's bags of coffee grounds on the counter, and-  _ aha _ . 

Thrown over the back of the couch was exactly what Bucky was looking for: alarge cable knit sweater, made of thick looking white wool. He grabbed it, planning to throw it on and run out the door. But when he put it on, he paused. It was Steve's.

Bucky lived in such a whirlwind of work and friends and alcohol and Steve that he barely paid attention to clothes, just throwing on whatever seemed right. It didn't surprise him that he hadn't noticed the sweater wasn't his.However there was no mistaking it as soon as he'd gotten it over his head.

It smelled exactly like Steve; like warmth and sandalwood and the feeling of being home. Bucky inhaled deeply, smiling a bit as he put his arms through the sleeves. They were too big, covering him to past tips of his fingers. He laughed a little as he noticed the hem, which came almost came down to his mid-thighs. It was a pleasant weight on him; made him feel like he was wrapped up in Steve's arms. 

He glanced at the clock on the wall, startling a bit as he saw the time. Bucky needed to get his head out of his ass, stop being obsessed with Steve and start heading to the office. Hastily grabbing his tablet, stylus, and bag, he headed out the door. He couldn't help but smile just a bit when he had to push his sleeve up just to lock it. 

He managed to get to Stark Tower on time (barely), Shouldering his bag as he got into the elevator. After a short ride to his floor, he walked over go his desk to find Wanda sitting on it, eating the skittles he kept hidden in the bottom drawer.

"About time." She grinned, tossing one at him.

"Hey!" Bucky frowned as it bounced off his forehead, landing on the carpet "That's a red one! Don't waste the red ones!" 

The two had been friends for as long as Bucky had been working at Stark Industries. She was head of marketing, so their paths crossed often. They also found that they worked exceptionally well together, their ribbing never getting in the way of what they produced. 

Wanda popped another skittle into her mouth, squinting as she looked at him.

"What? Is there a stain or something?" Bucky followed her eyes to his chest, looking back up when he saw nothing amiss.

"That sweater isn't yours." A slow smile spread across her face. "Bucky Barnes, have you been hooking up with someone?" 

"What?  _ No _ , I haven't been hooking up with someone, it's-"

"Oh my god." She gasped, eyes widening. "It's Steve, isn't it?" 

Wanda knew practically everything about Bucky, and when the train had broken down and Steve had come to pick him up on his motorcycle (Bucky swore he hated riding that death machine, but he had to admit he'd enjoyed whipping through the streets with his arms around Steve's broad torso wasn't exactly torture), she'd pestered him with questions about the 'blond beefcake with the beard' until Bucky spilled everything. 

"Yes.  _ No _ , well- sweater yes hookup no." He winced a little, hoping his statement had been somewhat clear.

"So you're just wearing around his sweater, why? God, Bucky, just tell him to pound you into next week and I guarantee he will. He might be able to bench press both of us, but that means he's probably a dummy."

"Steve isn't dumb." Bucky sighed, grabbing a skittle from Wanda and popping it into his mouth. "He just doesn't like me that way. And it's laundry day, it was the only clean thing I could find."

" _Doesn't like you that way_? " Wanda scoffed, shaking her head. "Maybe you're a dummy too. I met the guy for all of two seconds, and  I could tell he wants your jock. He was practically drooling over you, dude." 

Bucky wasn't able to do much more than stammer, cheeks burning. "He doesn't- that's not true." 

"For somebody so smart, you're the biggest goddamn idiot I've ever met. That man looked like he was going to explode when you put your arms around him on that bike. I know that look!" She popped more skittles into her mouth, holding out the bag to Bucky.

"Fine, I'll bite." He took a handful, looking at her expectantly. "What look?" 

"You know the look!" The fact that her mouth was full didn't stop her exclamations. "The handsome brooding look." 

When Bucky gave her nothing more than a confused headshake, she let out a groan of frustration.

"The ' _I'm-so-close-to-something-I-want-but-I-can't-have-it_ '  look!"

Bucky wanted more than anything to believe her, but knew better than to give himself that kind of hope. "That's crazy, Wanda. Steve and I are friends." 

She rolled her eyes, putting down the bag. "Alright. You wanna show me the design or not?"

Bucky arched an eyebrow, surprised at her easy acceptance. "You're not going to fight me?"

"I know I'm right, Bucky. Trust me, you'll see." 

He decided to drop it, hiking the huge sleeves of the sweater up to get his tablet out of his bag. Stark Industries had been working on a new line of prosthetics, and Bucky had gotten the opportunity to design the logo.

What he'd ended up with was a sketch of a silver metal arm in a blue circle,  _ Stark Industries _ emblazoned across the streamlined metal panels. Curved around the bottom of the circle were clean white letters, reading:  _ Need a Hand?.  _ The slogan had made Bucky wrinkle his nose, but apparently Tony Stark himself had come up with it, and refused to change it. 

"Hmm." Wanda tilted her head as she studied at it, a smile tugging at her lips. "Not bad, Bucky."

"Not bad?" He was fighting off a grin himself. The design was simple, but to him it felt just right. 

"Alright, whatever. It's perfect." 

"Fuck yeah it is!" Bucky practically leaped off the floor, sure that his huge smile would hurt his cheeks later.

He was about to ask why Wanda was frantically gesturing him to stop, but was interrupted by the sound of somebody clearing their throat. 

"Did I just hear profanity in my office?" 

Bucky turned around, and his mouth fell open. In front of him in all his Armani-suit-and-ridiculous-sunglasses-wearing glory was Tony fucking Stark. 

"I-" before he could further embarass himself, Stark cut him off.

"I'll let it slide because you're cute. Who's sweater is that, by the way? Is it your boyfriend's? Because if not, I'd love to-"

" _Tony_." Wanda cut in and that point, having slid off the desk. "No employees, remember?" 

"Right you are, Wanda." He sighed, winking at Bucky (who at this point had just been stunned into silence). "Anyway, I was just checking on my loyal employees, making sure everything is going we- are those skittles?" He looked at Bucky, who nodded dumbly. "Tell youwhat, sugar, if I can have some of those, you ca-"

" Tony. " Wanda gave him a pointed look, and Tony put his hands up in surrender.

"Right, right. Can I have some skittles anyway?"

"Um, yeah." Bucky had regained his voice at this point, handing Tony the bag with a shaking hand. Being newer to the company, he'd never met Mr. Stark before. He supposed it was time to make an impression. "Mr. Stark, I'm-"

"James Barnes, friends call you Bucky. NYU for graphic design, allergic to pollen, got whisked off on a motorbike by a huge blond a few weeks ago?"

Just when he thought he'd regained his footing, Bucky fell into confused silence once more. 

"Wait! Dammit, was it NYU or Carnegie Mellon?"

"NYU." Bucky furrowed his eyebrows a little as he met the man's gaze. 

Tony was only a bit taller him, but his reputation and attitude made him seem larger than life. Bucky was pretty sure he had whiplash- the CEO of Stark Industries had just called him  _ sugar _ .

"With all due respect, sir-" 

"You don't have to call me sir, unless you're into that."

" _ Tony! _ "

"God Wanda, what would I do without you?" 

"Get your ass sued off, that's what," she snarked.

"Right. Anyway, you can call me Tony."

"Uh, okay?" He looked from Tony to Wanda, the dynamic reminding him oddly of a child and babysitter. " _Tony_ , uh, how do you know all this stuff about me?" 

"I make it my business to know my employees, Barnes. Also, motorbikes make noise. Like, a lot. About time I invented a silent motorbike. Anyway, I believe you're working on a design?" 

"Right, yeah. It's done." He grabbed his tablet from behind him, using his stylus to punch in his password before handing it to Tony. "It's not perfect, if you have any suggestions I can-"

Stark held up a hand to stop Bucky, not lifting his eyes from the design. " _Not perfect_ my ass. This is fucking brilliant." He laughed, holding the tablet up like Simba in The Lion King. " _ Need a hand _ _?_ God, I'm hilarious. The design _is_ perfect, kid." He looked back at Bucky, smirking as he stepped closer to hand him back the tablet. "Pretty and smart- that makes two of us." His expression faltered when Wanda hit him on the head with a rolled-up packet of paper in her hand.

"Dammit, Wanda!" He rubbed his head, handing the tablet back to Bucky. "You two can go home now. Take the next week off, you've done good. Barnes, how are you getting home?"

All Bucky could manage was an ' _ Uh, wha? _ ' Today had been trying in the best ways possible. It took a second, but he recovered. "A week off? Mr. Stark-"

" _Tony_ , please."

" Tony , are you serious?" 

"Sure I am. Did a stellar fucking job." Nearly every word Tony said made his initial comment about profanity seem more ridiculous. "Now how are you getting home?"

"Train?" 

Tony made a sound like a buzzer, shaking his head. "Wrong answer." 

When Bucky just gave him a confused look (which seemed like the the thousandth confused look he'd given out today), Tony continued.

"You're going to wait in the lobby and I'm going to get you a car."

"That's really not necessary, I-"

"Nope. Enough. Silence. I'm Tony Stark, my word is law, you're taking the fucking car." 

After thanking Tony until he shut Bucky up (' _ Kid, you better stop that before I change my mind _ '), blushing at all the suggestive ways he had offered for Bucky to make it up to him, and watching Wanda hit him about a million more times with her papers, Bucky ended up waiting in the lobby for a car.

It had barely been five minutes before a scary and official looking man walked in, making a beeline for Bucky.

"Mr. Stark ordered a car for James 'prettyboy' Barnes?" 

Bucky's eyes widened as he looked up at the man, who seemed completely serious. Just when he thought he was done being surprised by Tony Stark. 

Coughing a little, he nodded. "I guess that's me." 

"Follow me, Mr. Barnes." 

The man lead him to a large black car, opening the black door for Bucky. He was about to tell the driver where to go when he saw his address being automatically loaded onto the GPS. 

"Does Tony do this often? Mister," he paused, waiting for the driver to fill in his name. 

"Call me Happy, Mr. Barnes." He definitely didn't look Happy, but Bucky was almost sure he caught a glint of amusement in his eyes from the rearview mirror. "And Mr. Stark only does this for people he likes. Judging by the nickname, he likes you very much." 

"Oh." Bucky's mother had always said that he had a gift for getting himself into bizzarre situations, and this was one of the many times she had been proven right. "If I call you Happy, you can call me Bucky. And tell him thanks, I guess?" 

"I will, Bucky." 

After a little longer in comfortable silence, Happy pulled up to Steve and Bucky's apartment building.

Cursing, Bucky realised he might not have any cash. He patted the pockets of his jeans, grabbing his wallet and pulling it out.

Happy only laughed, shaking his head. "There's no need, Bucky. Mr. Stark compensates me very well." 

Letting out a sigh of relief, Bucky nodded. "Alright, thank you Happy. See you around."

"See you around, prettyboy Barnes." Bucky couldn't help but laugh, looking in the rearview mirrror to see Happy laughing along with him.

When he got to his and Steve's door, Bucky still had a lingering smile on his face. The whole day had been weird, but kind of perfect- and the sight when he opened the door was the cherry on top.

Steve was sitting on the couch, running a hand through his beard as he read a paper from his stack on the coffee table. He had traded out the running clothes for an old tshirt and sweats, and something about seeing him looking comfortable and so gorgeous at the same time made Bucky's heart swell. 

It was times like these Bucky was reminded just how _massive_ his roomate was. Steve barely fit on their ratty loveseat, tree trunk legshanging off of one armrest as his broad back rested on the other. His huge fucking bear paw hands made the paper and pen look small, but he somehow didn't look like an oaf holding them. He looked- smart. The fact that Steve could probably crush his entire body with one gigantic arm mixed with the calm, productive air that he was currently exuding  _ really _ did things for Bucky.

He was pulled out of his reverie when he heard Steve addressing him, not looking up from the paper. "Hi, Buck."

"Hey." He smiled at how cute Steve looked when he was focused, taking off his shoes and setting down his bag on the counter. "How's it going?" 

"All these damn kids care about is stupid robots. How about you?" 

Bucky laughed, shaking his head. "You do work at a science school, Steve. And today was- totally weird and awesome. I met Tony Stark."

"Really?" Steve's head snapped up, and he hit Bucky with that thousand-watt smile. "That's a big deal, righ-" he didn't finish his sentence, his eyes zeroing in on the sweater.

Bucky had completely forgot it he was wearing it, having gotten used to the comfort and the heavenly smell. He hadn't even thought about if Steve would be upset. "Oh yeah, sorry about this. I just threw it on this morning. If you want you can have it back?" 

Steve shook his head. His expression was slightly amused, with an undertone Bucky couldn't quite place. Maybe it was the light that made Steve's eyes look just a bit darker. "No. Keep it, I like it more on you." 

_What the hell was that supposed to mean?_ Bucky's mind raced, trying to put the pieces together. Why would Steve want him to keep the sweater? Did he not want it back because Bucky had worn it? 

Did Steve just like the idea of Bucky wearing his clothes? No, on second thought that was just Bucky's stupid lizard brain reminding him how much he wanted to be  Steve's .

"Uh, you're sure?" Bucky really wanted to keep the sweater. He also didn't want to overstep, or creep Steve out.

"Absolutely," Steve replied, his smile returning as he noticed the sleeves covering Bucky's hands. "I'm sure you'll grow into it."

"Shut up." The impact of Bucky's statement was greatly dampened by the fact that he was now too grinning like an idiot.

"So back to Stark- how was that? Did he like what you drew up?" 

"He said it was 'fucking brilliant,' if I remember correctly." 

"Of course it was." Steve didn't look surprised in the slightest, just proud. What kind of saint had Bucky been in the past life to deserve this perfect man? "And how was he? Was he nice?"

"Steve, Stark is a weird dude. Like,  really weird." Bucky couldn't help but snicker at the memory of how brazen the man had been. 

"Weird? What do you mean, weird? Like eccentric billionaire weird, or creepy weird?"

"More first than second," Bucky reasoned. "He called me  _ sugar _ . He also called me a car when I told him I was taking the train. A big black SUV, and apparently he'd told his driver that my name was James 'prettyboy' Barnes." 

Steve's eyebrows shot up at that, and once again, Bucky couldn't get a read on him. Something was definitely wrong though, judging by the way his smile evaporated. "Is that so?" His voice was calm and measured, strained just the smallest bit.

"Yeah." Bucky spoke slower now too, not sure if he'd said something wrong. "It was fine, though, he wasn't creepy or anything. He just has, like- absolutely no filter whatsoever."

"Yeah, seems like it." Steve laughed a little, the warmth not quite reaching his eyes. "Wonder if he'll ever get put in check." Bucky wondered where that came from, but it seemed more like Steve was musing to himself than talking to him.

"Oh, he did. Wanda kept on wacking him with this paper, it was kind of hilarious. Like watching somebody spray a cat." 

For some reason, that made brought a genuine smile out of Steve. "Good. I like her, you know." 

Bucky arched an eyebrow. "You've met her once." 

"I'm just glad she's looking out for you, Buck."

"Uh, thanks?" 

Bucky swore to god, it was like Steve was speaking in ciphers. _ Looking out for him _ _?_ What, like a bodyguard? Most likely, Steve was just worried about Bucky and wanted to make sure his friend was safe. 

Bucky spotted the paper in Steve's hands once more, and remembered his promise. He sighed at what he was about to say.

"You should thank Stark. He liked the design so much, he gave me the week off. So if you need me to talk to your care bear club about graphics, I suppose I could squeeze them in when it works for you."

The things he did for this man were truly unbelievable. It was all made worth it, however, when Steve positively beamed, leaping off the couch and yanking Bucky into a crushing hug.

" Thank you , Buck, I know it's going to make all the difference-"

Steve was saying some Kumbaya shit about saving the children, but Bucky wasn't listening to any of it; his brain was too busy melting into a puddle of goo because  _ Steve Rogers had just picked him up _ . In his excitement, apparently he had lost control of his freakish strength because Bucky's feet were no longer touching the ground and now he was clinging onto heavily muscled shoulders with all his might, praying to anybody that was listening that Steve wouldn't drop him (or that he wouldn't pop a boner just from being squeezed by those massive fucking arms).

Eventually Steve put him down, the expression of pure joy on his face enough to make Bucky forget that he had just been swung around like a ragdoll.

"You know, Buck, you really are my best guy."

Could this idiot he was in love with have picked anything cheesier to say? Bucky rolled his eyes, adjusting the sweater to make himself look less like he'd just gotten off a rollercoaster. "Yeah, whatever, punk."

Steve barked out a laugh, shoving Bucky's shoulder a little. "You ruined the moment, fucking jerk." 


	4. Chapter 4

That Friday, Steve shot up out of his bed as soon as his alarm went off, adrenaline shooting through his veins.  Today was the day.

So far, Bucky had spent most of his week off eating pizza and watching  _Criminal Minds_ ( how he managed to stay so perfect-looking with such unsustainable living habits was beyond Steve)- but today was the day Bucky was scheduled to come into his class.

He knocked on Bucky's door as he made his way to the kitchen, putting on some coffee. "Rise and shine, Buck," he called. "You've got some little shits to present to." 

Through the door he heard a sound like growling and what he thought might be something breaking. Bucky then made his way into the kitchen, having no right to look as adorable as he did.

He was wearing a pair of soft looking shorts, leaving his legs on display and Steve desperately wanting to bury his head between those soft-looking thighs and never come up for air. They made a pretty contrast with the tshirt Bucky wore, so large that it almost came down past the shorts. It was a garish pink, with a picture of Nicki Minaj on the front. Steve had laughed a little when he'd first seen it, but quickly learned that Bucky turned vicious whenever 'Queen Nicki' was insulted. 

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," Bucky grumbled. He was always like this before he'd gotten some coffee in him, and Steve couldn't help but find it endearing. Maybe it was the early morning, but for some reason his traitorous mouth decided it was a good idea to say as much.

"Can't help it that you're so cute when you're wearing a Nicki shirt and looking like you're about to murder me," he mused before he could stop himself.

He eyes widened as he realised what he'd said, fighting the urge to clap a hand over his mouth. Steve watched Bucky to see what he'd do next, hoping to god the comment hadn't seemed too creepy and desperate. 

Instead of a dramatic gasp or a look of horror, what Steve got was the Barnes  morning-scowl-special , which he'd seen more times than he could count. However, this one seemed a little less intense than usual. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Rogers. Coffee?" 

Steve laughed both in amusement and relief, sliding a mug over to Bucky just the way he liked it- black, with an absurd amount of sugar. That earned him an almost-smile, Bucky's eyes twinkling just a bit as he thanked him. Fuck if it didn't warm Steve down to the tips of his toes.

"Did you tell your little gremlins that I'm coming?" Bucky's hands now cupped the mug, and he looked at Steve over the rim.

Rolling his eyes, Steve took a sip of his own. "No, Buck, I thought I would surprise the  kids ." He found himself grinning at the idea, imagining the look on Flash's face when he met somebody who knew Tony Stark. 

The thought of Stark so shamelessly hitting on Bucky had honestly made Steve bristle a bit, even though he'd had absolutely no right to. But when he saw Bucky walk in wearing Steve's sweater, how big it was and how comfortable the smaller man had looked in it, something primal in Steve's brain had screamed  _MINEMINEMINEMINEMINEMINE_ ,  and that part of Steve had not been happy to hear that some billionare playboy had been telling Bucky he was pretty and ordering cars for him. But Steve had managed to shut that part of himself down, chalking up his discomfort to the fact that he was worried about his friend. Bucky wasn't  _ his _ , no matter how badly Steve wanted him.

After a quick breakfast, some hip checking to get to the sink first, and heading to his room to change, Steve was ready to go. He waited by the door for Bucky, who was out just after Steve.

Jesus Christ , how was it fair that one man was allowed to knock Steve's breath away every time he walked into a room?

He was dressed simply enough, in a pair of skinny jeans that made Steve want to get on his knees and beg, and a soft looking gray crewneck. Lightly tousled waves barely touched his shoulders, and Steve could already hear Bucky complaining about helmet-head from Steve's bike.

"Ready?" He grabbed his bag, holding open the door as Bucky grabbed his.

"I guess." Bucky sighed dramatically as he walked out past Steve. "I can't we're believe taking  your murder machine to talk to a school full of  kids ." At this point he was just teasing, but Steve knew that Bucky was doing him a massive favour. 

"Thank you, Buck. I mean it."

It was rare that Bucky let anyone past the veneer of quick-witted sarcasm that he presented, so Steve savoured it when Bucky looked up at him with none of the dry humor that he usually did.

"Stevie, I hate kids, but I like you. I make it seem like it's a big deal, but it's not." 

Steve opened his mouth, not even knowing what to say. He elected to close it when nothing came to him.

"You might be a dummy, but you've really got me wrapped around that huge fucking finger of yours." 

Ah, there he was. Steve snorted, shouldering Bucky as they reached his bike. "Whatever, jerk. Ready?" 

He held out a helmet to Bucky, who regarded it with caution even though he'd worn it a few times before.

"You know, the fact that you're a knit-sweater-wearing-art-history-loving dork that owns a motorcycle never fails to stun me, punk." 

"Just put on the helmet, Barnes." 

Sighing, Bucky jammed it on his head as Steve got on the motorcycle, anxiously eyeing it as the engine turned over.

"Gremlins are waiting," Steve teased, as Buckg gulped and threw a leg over the bike behind him.

Steve felt tentative hands wrap around his middle, and was suddenly painfully conscious of the warmth behind him. He'd driven Bucky before, but every time he felt those hands around him was a struggle not to land them both in a fiery wreck. 

"Hang on tight," he called over his shoulder, lifting the kickstand and starting to move.

He heard a distinct yelp from behind him, the hands suddenly vice-like around his torso. Bucky's squeezing wasn't enough to hurt Steve, but it was too tight to let him forget even for a second exactly who was behind him.

It wasn't long before they reached Midtown High, Steve pulling into his usual spot. He then got off, putting the kickstand down. When Bucky followed, he wobbled a bit- Steve instinctively grabbed onto his forearms to keep him steady.

He grinned a little at the sight, Bucky scowling with a helmet that was just a bit too big sitting on top of his previously perfect hair.

"Let me get that," Steve murmured, reaching under Bucky's chin to undo the strap. His touch lingered for just a second before he snapped out of it, lifting the helmet to reveal adorably messy waves.

Bucky didn't say anything, just looking up at Steve with a sort of reverence that made his throat dry.

They were early, so Steve began to organize his things. Bucky hopped up onto one of the desks, swinging his legs as he looked around the room. "It deeply unsettles me that you would choose to return to a highschool after being set free, Steve. And don't even hit me with all that whole 'educating the future generation' crock of shit."

"It's not a crock of shit." Steve turned away from the board where he had been writing to see that rather than looking smug, Bucky was chewing on his lip as though he couldn't quite put into words what he wanted to say. "What're you getting at, Buck?" 

Bucky closed his eyes, sighing. "If you ever repeat this, I don't care how obnoxiously large you are- I will find a way to end you." 

"Uh, okay?" Steve looked at him expectantly, not wanting to spook Bucky away from speaking his mind.

"It's real cool that you do this. That you devote your life to doing something nice for other people." 

"I-  what ?" Of all the things Steve had expected, this certainly hadn't been it. 

"You heard me, Rogers." Bucky's cheeks were now tinted a pretty pink, and he finally met Steve's eyes. "I might rip on you, but it's cool. And I'll never say it again, but you should know." 

Before Steve could say anything, the bell rang. The shrill noise shocked Bucky to his feet, and as students filed in, he moved from the student's desk to Steve's, perching on an empty spot.

The class settled, all eyeing Bucky apprehensively as he looked back, eyes dragging lazily from student to student. Steve noticed a couple girls in the back eyeing him, exchanging whispers and giggling softly.

Steve cleared his throat, the class all turning to him. "Good morning, guys. Today we have a special guest." The class looked back at Bucky, giving that mildly interested but overtly skeptical look that teenagers often gave when they had to listen to somebody that they didn't know.

"This is my friend Bucky: he works at Stark Industries."

At that, a quiet but palpable buzzing filled the room. Apathetic gazes were quickly replaced with keen ones. Flash, who'd been in the middle of propping his feet up on a desk, almost slipped out of his chair. 

"He's going to talk to you about how knowing a thing or two about art can be valuable in today's economic climate. Take it away, Buck." 

For a moment, Bucky looked at the kids, and they looked back. He stayed sitting on Steve's desk, kicking is legs as he thought. 

"Okay, kiddies. I've heard you haven't been listening to Mr. Rogers very well. And although I do concede that he is a punk, I also want to make it clear that I live with this punk, and I never hear the end of how much he  wants you all to _succeed_ . For some reason, he cares a lot about you little shits-"

" _ Bucky _ ," Steve hissed, giving him a warning look. "School. Children." He gestured around, and Bucky sighed.

"So little faith, Rogers. Just let me do my thing."

At this point the kids were stunned into silence, the only sound in the room a clatter of a pencil being dropped to the floor.

Flash was the first one to speak, his face splitting into a grin. "This dude  rocks ."

For the rest of the period, Steve sat at his desk in silence as Bucky commanded the room. And for all the shit the guy talked, he was fantastic with kids.

He showed them his tablet and how it worked, talking about how seemingly useless art principles greatly applied to not only graphic design but engineering, from the design of Stark Tower to the revolutionary transportation and prosthetic technology that the company worked on. 

They loved him, staying quiet when he spoke and asking questions and even  taking notes,  which Steve had never seen happen in his classrom before.

One of the girls that had been giggling with her friends earlier raised her hand, smiling widely when Bucky pointed at her.

"Um, have you ever met Tony Stark?"

He grinned at her, and for a second Steve thought she was going to faint. "Sure have. He's a nice guy."

_ A little too nice _ , Steve thought absentmindedly as the class continued to fawn over Bucky and ask questions.

The period flew by, and before Steve knew it, the bell was ringing.

"If I hear you're being anything but model students, I'm coming back and I'm cracking skulls," Bucky called over the noise with a glare.

That earned him a couple laughs, and nodding all around.

"I'm serious, you little fuckers, I know Krav Mag-" 

" Alright , Buck." Steve laughed, gesturing for the kids to leave.

On his way out, Flash stopped at the front of the class, standing in front of Bucky. 

"Thank you, sir. That was very informative."

Bucky raised an eyebrow, looking at him bemusedly. "No worries, kid. Be nice to Rogers over here, and maybe he'll talk to me, and maybe I'll talk to Stark."

Flash was left speechless at that, his mouth dropping open for a bit before he could muster a response. "Uh, thank you, sir, will do." 

"Uh-huh. Be good." Bucky waved as he left, leaving the class empty.

Steve furrowed his eyebrows, looking over at him. He didn't know Bucky had that kind of power. "Can you even-"

"Nope. Well, maybe, if I let him feel me up a little," Bucky teased.

Steve frowned at that, not amused by the idea in the slightest. 

"Kidding, Steve. Jesus."

The rest of the day went similarly, Steve just sitting back and watching as Bucky commanded class after class. It seemed like every single kid loved him, and even though he liked to act like he didn't, Steve could tell Bucky loved them right back.

Steve drove them back home on his bike, taking deep even breaths to keep his mind on the road. On the way home, they stopped to get a few snacks and drinks- this week, the gang's Friday movie night was at Steve and Bucky's place.

Sam arrived first, Nat and Clint showing up a bit later. Eventually, they were all settled on the couch and chairs, watching some mushy period piece that Clint had picked.

Steve was wedged between Bucky and the end of the couch, Nat on Bucky's other side. Bucky's hair was still an absolute mess; apparently he had let the helmet win the battle. A curl fell into his face, and he unsuccessfully tried to blow it away.

Natasha rolled her eyes as she saw it, grabbing the remote and pausing the movie as she glared at him. 

"That's it. Bucky, get the floor." 

"Are you kicking me off the couch, Nat?" He looked over at her, and Steve saw the tentative look on his face- it was often hard to tell whether or not Natasha was joking or not.

"I'm serious, Barnes. Here." She pointed at the spot beneath her, and he worldessly slid onto the floor, kneeling on the ground and facing her.

Steve couldn't help but how fucking good Bucky looked on his knees, head tilted up so he could meet Natasha's eyes. Steve shifted a little in his seat, looking over at the screen instead of at those lips or cheekbones or eyelashes or anything else that would result in him having to put a pillow on his lap.

"God! Turn around, you fucking twink." Natasha laughed, kicking him playfully in the chest.

"Yeah Bucky, Jesus. Stop looking like you're about to suck dick before Rogers has an aneurysm," Sam quipped from the bean bag he was sitting on.

Bucky's eyes flitted over to Steve and he grinned a little, which would have sent him into cardiac arrest if he didn't turn around, settling in front of Natasha.

"Remind me why we invited you again?" Steve glared at Sam, the heat in his cheeks telling him that his face was now bright red. That was probably why the rest of the group was falling into peals of laughter. In an effort to make it stop, he pulled a twizzler out of the bag he was holding and whipped it at Sam, beaning neatly him in the head. 

"Oh, that's how it is?" Sam shot him a challenging look as he grabbed a bag.

"That's how it is," Steve replied with a grin just before he felt a sour patch kid hit him squarely in the chest.

"Can we _please_ get back to Robbie and Celia?" Clint gestured at the tv with the remote, mouth full of popcorn. "Briony just accused him even though he didn't do it, people, pay attention!" He clicked play, all of them quieting down as the drama on screen continued.

"You know, Robbie is hella cu-  _ ow _ !" Steve looked over to see what was interrupting Bucky's commentary, and furrowed his eyebrows when he saw Natasha tugging half of his hair into a tight french braid.

"I couldn't stand looking at this fucking bird's nest anymore," she muttered to him softly as she yanked a section into place. "Now let's find out what happens to Robbie and Celia before Clint has a fit." 

Bucky squirmed a little on the floor, a sharp whack on the shoulder from Natasha making him still. Steve tried to pay attention to what was happening in the movie, forgetting all about the braids as he immersed himself in the storyline. 

Just when Robbie got to Dunkirk, Natasha let out a proud, 'ha!' and Bucky clambered back onto the couch, thanking her happily. Steve glanced over at him as he felt a twizzler being grabbed from the bag on his lap, and found he couldn't rip his eyes away.

The braids just barely touched Bucky's shoulders, pulling hair back from his face so that Steve could see his side profile. And fuck, Bucky looked cute. He was chewing on the twizzler, pink lips gently pursed around it as he regarded the screen with bright blue eyes, open wide so that long lashes curled up. 

Steve almost leaned over to kiss Bucky right then and there when he noticed those blue eyes narrow in confusion, eyebrows furrowing.

"What are they saying?"

Steve turned to the television, noticing the language had switched and now soldiers on screen were speaking rapid french. Without thinking, he responded.

"They're from the French army and Robbie and his friends brought them supplies. Food, water, you know. They're talking about how great the Allied Powers are now." 

Four pairs of eyes turned on him, and he ran a nervous hand through his hair. "What?" 

He'd been friends with Peggy, head of the french department at Midtown, for as long as he'd worked there. Over the course of their friendship she'd taught him a few things, and he picked it up quickly.

"Wait, so you've been able to speak french this whole time and didn't think to tell any of us?" Sam scoffed, throwing another piece of candy at him.

"You didn't ask," Steve replied, popping it into his mouth once it landed in his lap.

"Awesome." Bucky smiled at him, and even though Steve knew Bucky was a grown man, he couldn't think of a better way to describe him than  _ sweet _ . 

Those braids were working some evil witchy magic on Steve, because now all he wanted (more than usual) was to hold and kiss and love on Bucky,  cherish him, wake up and go to bed next to that pretty face. He couldn't help but smile bashfully back.

When group finished the movie, there were plenty of tears from Clint, anger from Natasha and Bucky (' _ thanks to that stupid fucking cunt, Celia and Robbie will never get their seaside cottage! _ '), and confusion from Sam (he'd fallen asleep halfway through). 

Steve would never tell anybody of the group (because he was certain they'd make fun of him), but he was more focused on the cinematography than Robbie or Celia. 

Clint had met with his dealer earlier that day, so the group elected to go up to the roof of the building and smoke some of the weed he'd picked up. Steve ended sitting up next to Bucky, the two of them listening contendedly to some story Sam was telling about an ex-girlfriend setting his clothes on fire.

"But  _ did _ you cheat?" Natasha looked up to where he was leaning on the wall, blindly handing the joint to Steve.

"Hell no!" Sam shook his head, Steve watching as he took a deep drag. "The fucking underwear was hers!" 

The group laughed at that, smoke curling out of Steve's mouth. He liked smoking, even though it always reminded him of those days as an asthmatic kid who could barely keep air in his lungs. It grounded him and spaced him out at the same time, but didn't change the fact that he was painfully aware of Bucky's shoulder against his. 

_ Fuck it. Time to make your move, Rogers. _

He passed the joint on to Bucky after taking another quick drag, hand sparking at the feeling of soft skin touching his. Once Bucky put it to his lips, Steve turned to the side, facing away from him before slowly setting his head in Bucky's lap.

He held his breath for a second, not sure what to expect. What he got was the most precious giggle he'd ever heard, and the sight of Bucky looking down at him with hooded eyes and a little smile. Steve let his eyes drift closed, feeling completely at peace so close to Bucky and not even bothering to wonder why the whole group had gone silent. 

Bucky must have passed the joint on, because Steve felt two gentle hands on his head, running through his hair, scratching his scalp gently, tugging ever so slightly. 

He let out a little sigh, the feeling of hands playing with his hair made twice as good by the knowledge they were Bucky's. The other man simply hummed as Steve het his eyes fall shut, briefly feeling fingertips against his eyelids before they returned to his hair. God, his heart was going to fucking burst. He needed to tell Bucky how he felt, but there was no way he could. The perfect compromise tumbled out of his mouth in a soft stream.

" _Je te veux. Je te veux plus que tout. Tu es un ange, tu es parfait. Trop joli pour moi, et je t'aime._ "

"Stevie?" He couldn't see the look of confusion on Bucky's face, but he knew it was there.

" _ Je veux te garder, seulement pour moi. C'était la mellieure moment de ma vie quand j'ai te vu dans mon pull. Mais tu sais le problème, mon cher? Le problème est que tu m'aimes pas. C'est tragique, non ?"  _

_"I don't understand a word you're_ saying, pal." Bucky laughed softly, hands not having moved from Steve's hair. The conversation amongst the others had resumed at that point, but Steve let himself float away, imagining in that moment that if he wanted, he could sit up and give Bucky a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Je te veux. Je te veux plus que tout. Tu es un ange, tu es parfait. Trop joli pour moi, et je t'aime.  
> \--  
> I want you. I want you more than anything. You are an angel, you're perfect. Too pretty for me, and I love you.
> 
> Je veux t'avoir, juste pour moi. C'était la mellieure moment de ma vie quand j'ai te vu dans mon pull. Mais tu sais le problème, mon cher? Le problème est que tu m'aimes pas. C'est tragique, non?  
> \--  
> I want to have you, only for me. It was the best moment of my life when I saw you in my sweater. But do you know the problem, my dear? The problem is that you don't love me. It's tragic, isn't it?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more tony in this chapter!! also sweet moment between the boys- after this things will pick up for sure

Bucky woke up late, with a craving for chocolate chip pancakes that just wouldn't quit. He sighed, tumbling out of bed and throwing on Steve's sweater. He'd noticed that Steve seemed to glow whenever he saw him wearing it, and Bucky loved the happiness that seemed to roll off Steve just as much as he loved the comfort of the knit. It also made him laugh a little that because of how ridiculously big it was, the bottom came down past the soft sleep shorts he was wearing.

Steve was out, so Bucky decided to use the speakers, soft jazz flowing through the apartment. He swayed a little to the music, smiling as he started the coffee. 

Bucky was standing at the stove flipping a pancake (which definitely had too many chocolate chips) when he heard the door open. He didn't really register it, too busy transferring the pancake to a plate and slowly swinging his hips to Ella Fitzgerald.

_ Like a flower crying for the dew _

_ That was my heart serenading you _

Grabbing the pancake from the plate, he took a bite- Bucky found eating the pancakes as he cooked them to be both fun and efficient. He hummed along to the music, expecting to hear more movement as Steve settled in. He didn't notice the complete lack of noise until the next pancake was already in the pan, and shot a curious glance over his shoulder.

Steve was standing there, looking absolutely edible. He was wearing what looked like running clothes- a pair of sweatpants and one of those obnoxiously tight tshirts that made Bucky want to jump his bones.

He was also standing stock-still, cheeks still flushed from running and eyes staring just above Bucky's mid-thigh at the hem of the sweater, so hard that Bucky thought it might burst into flames. 

"Uh, Earth to Steve?" Bucky waved a little, fully turning around.

"Right, um, hi." Steve smiled a little sheepishly, face turning even redder.

Bucky laughed a little, shaking his head. "Want pancakes?" 

"No thanks. What're you listening to?" Steve grabbed a glass of water, leaning against the counter as he sipped it. 

"Wait, seriously?" Bucky raised his eyebrows, still swaying a little as he flipped the pancake. His mother had owned a record collection that took up most of the empty spaces in their apartment- Bucky had been raised on music, and the idea that anybody wasn't well-versed in fifties jazz made him shiver. "Ella Fitzgerald?Duke Ellington? Ring any bells?"

"Uh, maybe?" Steve seemed to be trying to listen harder, looking fucking adorable as he tilted his head a bit.

"Prelude to a Kiss," Bucky explained, a  sudden surge of courage motivating him to grab the glass out of Steve's hand and set it on the counter.

"W-what?" Steve's eyes widened, looking down at Bucky with something like terror on his face as he moved closer. "I haven't showered."

"Fuck, Steve, I'm not going to bite." He laughed a little, grabbing his hand and pulling him forward. "You can shower after." If this was his roomate's first time hearing Ella and Duke, Bucky was going to make damn sure he experienced it properly. 

"After what? What are you going to do?" Steve's chest visibly rose and fell with a deep breath, and Bucky let go of a breath of his own as Steve allowed himself to be led into the middle of the kitchen.

"We're dancing." Bucky put his arms slowly around Steve's neck, looking up to meetscared-looking ocean eyes. 

Before he could figure out why they looked just a little wistful, Bucky nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt big hands settle on his waist.

"Uh, sorry Buck. I don't dance, you know that." 

"What are you sorry for? Just startled me, that's all." 

Steve was supposed to be in the leading position, but Bucky started to sway to the rhythm first. He went slowly so that Steve could keep up, and he did, neither of them saying anything. Bucky hoping he didn't look too much like a lovesick puppy as he gazed up at Steve, who still had that wistful look on his face.

_ Oh how my love song gently cries _

_ For the tenderness within your eyes _

The hands on him moved, and Bucky stilled. He wasn't sure what was going to happen until he felt strong arms all the way around his middle, pulling him closer.

Letting out a sigh of pleasure, Bucky closed his eyes, tucking his head onto the bigger man's chest and tightening his arms just a bit. 

_ Did friends dance like this?  _

Bucky didn't know, and at this point, he didn't care. He was too busy being wrapped up in Steve's sweater and Steve's arms and everything  Steve .

He thought he was at the gates of heaven when he felt a bearded chin rest on his head, certain he would have fallen to the floor if not for the gentle but firm hold on his waist. 

"See, punk?Dancing ain't so bad." Bucky didn't even open his eyes as he teased, feeling the deep rumble of Steve's big chest against his cheek as he laughed.

Steve responded softly into Bucky's hair, but it was in the same rapid french he's spoken last night. The gravelly almost-whisper of his voice sent a tingle down Bucky's spine, even though he didn't have the slightest idea what Steve was saying. He caught a couple words , _mignon_ , _coeur_ ,  and _envie de toi_ ,  none of which made the least sense to him.

It was enough just to hear Steve's voice, and the two continued to dance even as the song changed, Billie Holiday filling the gap that Ella had left.

_ You don't know how hearts burn _

_ For love that cannot live yet never dies _

Bucky was so, utterly, completely gone for this meathead. And poor Steve definitely had no idea, was dancing with Bucky just to humor his crazy friend that had pulled him into the kitchen as soon as he got home. For now, this was enough. Standing in the kitchen with his pajamas on, being held in Steve's arms, listening to the crooning music.

Neither of them noticed the door opening, not until the sound of somebody clearing their throat made them spring apart.

Standing in the doorway was Wanda, with a huge grin on her face.

" _ Wait- " _

Before Bucky could say anything, Wanda was screaming, jumping up and down. Steve looked over at him, seemingly equally bewildered and amused.

He mouthed a quick 'one sec' to Steve before steering her into the hallway, closing the door. 

"Oh my god Barnes, did I tell you or  did I tell you! You guys are so fucking cute and he's so in love with you and  _ was he speaking french _ ?"

"No! Wanda, shut up, I didn't tell him anything." Bucky placed hands on her shoulders, and her excitement quickly evaporated into exasperation. 

"What? What was that, then? The whispering sweet nothings and dancing to slow jazz? That was-  _ platonic _ ?"

"Yes?" Bucky let go of her, only to be whacked in the side of the head. "Ow! What are you even doing here?" 

She completely ignored his question, giving him another reprimanding smack on his shoulder. "He is totally in love with you! Did you no-"

He held up a hand, Wanda reluctantly stopping as he heard footsteps approaching the door. "Shh, he's coming!" 

Steve slowly opened the door, music no longer playing in the apartment. He looked a little pained to be interrupting them, standing timidly in the doorway like the world's buffest puppy. "Hi, Wanda."

"Hi Steve." She grinned back at him, obviously tucking her frustration away for the sake of politeness.

"Uh, is everything okay? I heard, like, urgent whispering." 

"Yeah, all good." Bucky smiled at Steve, probably looking like a smitten idiot. "Wanda just came here to-" in that moment, he realised she'd never told him why she'd come.

"Oh, right." She nodded. "Tony wants us in today. He sent Happy to get me and told him to come grab you on the way to the office. Something about making shirts with the logo?"

Bucky thought he heard Steve murmur something along the lines of, 'why the fuck does Stark know where we live?'

"Shirts?" Bucky laughed a little, shaking his head. "Of course he wants it on shirts. Wanna go ahead while I shower and change?"

"Don't worry, I'll wait." She smiled, glancing at Steve. _Oh no_ _. _

"Really? I'd hate to keep Happy waiting." Bucky did not like the idea of Steve and Wanda talking without him there- who knows what she would tell him?

"No worries, Bucky." She smiled at him, definitely knowing exactly what she was doing. "It's really no worries. Happy said we can take our time, and I can wait with Steve- I wanted to chat with him anyway."

_ Oh no. _ He wasn't winning this one, not now that Steve knew Wanda wanted to speak with him. Sighing, he gave her a pleading look not to embarass him too much. "Alright. Uh, have fun?" He ducked around Steve to make a beeline to his bedroom, thinking that the faster he moved, the less time the two of them would get to talk.

Steve hated dancing, but  _ Christ _ did he love Bucky. He hadn't been able to stop himself from pulling the brunette right against his chest, and had almost cried with relief when Bucky seemed to like it. Steve had been completely lost in the moment, swaying with the man he loved and telling him just how much he loved him (even though Bucky couldn't understand a word of it). 

He'd been shocked when he'd seen Wanda in his apartment (in hindsight maybe he shouldn't have been, since he'd left the door open in the stupor that seeing Bucky dancing in nothing but shorts and Steve's sweater had sent him into). He'd been even more shocked when Wanda had announced she wanted to talk to Steve alone. They'd only met once or twice, and Steve couldn't possibly imagine what she had to say to him.

Nevertheless, Bucky left after exchanging a look with Wanda that Steve couldn't decipher, and the two of them were alone.

"Hi, Steve."

"Uh, hi."

"Can we go inside?" 

Steve remembered just then that she was in the hallway, and he was still standing awkwardly in the doorframe. "Yeah, sure." 

He moved to the side to let her in, and then followed. This time he was sure to close the door behind him, and as soon as he did, he smelled something burning- there was now a smoking pile of ash on the stove where Bucky's pancake had been.

Steve smiled fondly at it, even though it was making their whole apartment smell like charcoal. Typical of Bucky to get wrapped up in something as carefree as dancing in the kitchen and forget all about a fire hazard. Wrapping a towel around his hand, he managed to scrape the blackened disc into the garbage and start soaking the pan in the sink.

When the job was done and the kitchen fan was blowing away smoke, he turned to Wanda, who was now seated on the counter.

"You like him, don't you?" She was giving Steve a look that was a little too knowing. 

Oh, fuck. Big time fuck.

How did she know? Had she found out herself?Had Bucky told her? Oh god, did Bucky know? Steve racked his brain, trying to think of how to get the best possible outcome of this situation.

_ Play it cool, Rogers. Don't crack. _

"Bucky? Sure I like him. We live together, it would suck if I didn't." He cursed himself at how quickly the words had come out, and felt his heart sink further when Wanda's expression didn't change.

"You know what I mean, Steve. Like, romantically like him? Want-to-be-with-him-forever like him? Hold-him-a-lot-closer-than-friends-hold-each-other-while-slow-dancing-to-Billie-Holiday-and-whispering-in-french-about-how-much-you-like-him like him?" 

He felt his jaw drop open, brain completely shorting out. Wanda knew. Jesus, how did she know? It had been like she'd read his mind. Out of the millions of questions that popped up once his head was back online, Steve picked possibly the least important.

"You speak french?" 

"No, but there's a neon sign over your head that says  _ I'm in Love With Bucky Barnes _ ."

He glanced nervously down the hall, praying to god Bucky hadn't heard anything. The shower was running, so he appeared ro be safe. He turned back to Wanda, who was looking at him expectantly. Steve didn't know how she knew, but she knew. He sighed in defeat, running a nervous hand through his hair. 

"Does he know?" 

For some reason, she burst out into laughter, shaking her head. "No. He doesn't know, but that's only because he's a stubborn idiot. I'm starting to think you are too." 

"Wait, what?"

"I'm going to spell it out for you, Steve, and for the love of god  _ please _ don't mess it up." She was looking at him like he was a kindergartner that just couldn't grasp the concept of the alphabet.

"Um, okay?" 

She spoke slowly, maintaining eye contact with him and leaning forward from her spot on the counter. "Make. A. Move." 

Why did Wanda want him to make a move? Did she for some reason want to see Steve get hit with the stone-cold rejection that he was certain was coming? Or did she maybe, just maybe, know something Steve didn't? 

"Why d-" 

Before he could get the words out, the bathroom door down the hall opened, Bucky now fully dressed and looking adorable with wet hair.

"Ready to go, Wanda?" He wrinkled his nose as he reached the kitchen. "God, what's that smell?" 

"You were apparently trying to cremate somebody on the stove," Wanda teased, sliding off the counter.

When Bucky looked to him with confusion, Steve cracked a smile. "The pancake, Buck." 

"No!" His expression of horror made both Steve and Wanda burst into laughter, Bucky rushing to the garbage can and finding it smoking. "Shit. I'll remember you, buddy." 

"Okay, funeral's over, Barnes, time to move." Wanda grabbed his bag from the table, handing it to him and then grabbing his hand. 

"Alright, alright." He let himself be pulled out of the apartment, looking cute as hell as he was jerked forward. He looked over his shoulder, hitting Steve with a smile that almost knocked him out cold. "Bye Steve."

"See ya, Buck. Bye, Wanda." He gave them both a little wave, gulping when Wanda pushed Bucky ahead and leaned back into the doorway, mouthing three words.

_Make a move_.

Bucky was still feeling giggly after dancing with Steve, smiling like an idiot the whole way down to the car. Happy was waiting outside, and opened the door for both of them with a smile.

"Hey, Happy." Bucky grinned as he waited for Wanda to get into the car.

"Mr. Stark will be excited to see you, prettyboy Barnes," he teased as he closed the door, leaving Bucky laughing and Wanda rolling her eyes.

"If you need him to stop bothering you, call HR," she warned as they did up their seatbelts.

"It's harmless, I don't want to get him in trouble." Bucky shrugged, having kind of forgotten about how big of a flirt Tony was during his week off. "He's kind of cute, like a little puppy." 

Happy snorted at that, and Wanda shoved him. "Eyes on the prize, Barnes. You've got a huge blond puppy laying at your feet already." 

"Yeah, I wish." His insides warmed at the mention of Steve, and it was probably showed on his face because Happy grinned at him through the rearview mirror.

"Boyfriend?"

Wanda's 'yes' and Bucky's 'no' merged together, both of them glaring at the other.

"Well, Bucky's roomate. They're both in love and neither will admit it," Wanda explained, earning a scoff from Bucky.

"Not true. I'm in love with him and he definitely doesn't see me as anything more than a friend, so now I have to get over him." 

"Are you an idiot, Barnes?" Wanda looked over at him, eyebrows raised. "I actually would like you to tell me now if you're an idiot, because this is ridiculous." 

"What did you even talk to him about?" Bucky had spent his whole shower wondering what on earth had been happening in the kitchen.

He saw brief conflict in Wanda's eyes before she shook her head with a smile. "None of your business."

"What? You're seriously not gonna tell me?"

"You'll find out eventually." 

Dread pooled in Bucky's stomach, he felt sick not knowing. Had they been talking about Bucky? Laughing about his massive crush on Steve? 

Before the worries could continue to swirl around Bucky's head, the car pulled to a stop, Happy exiting so he could open the door for them. Wanda and Bucky both thanked him, and after Happy wished Bucky luck with his 'boy troubles', they were on their way.

"Tony wants to see you in his office," Wanda explained as they stepped into an elevator. "Not sure exactly how legitimate his reasoning is, but I guess we're about to find out."

With a little  _ ding _ , they doors opened, the pair stepping off onto the top floor. Bucky was a little nervous, felt kind of out of place in an area full of important people. Wanda guided him to the office, knocking in the door and then swinging it open.

Loud music roared out of the room, something like guitars and somebody whacking a cat. Bucky winced, taking a step back, but Wanda seized his arm and pulled him in. Inside was Tony, standing at his desk and moving his hands to make holograms whirl around him. He nodded his head to the music as he turned the images this way and that, making small adjustments or discarding them entirely. The sleeves of what looked to be a very expensive shirt were shoved up to his elbows, and the buttons didn't look to be done right.

"Tony?" Wanda called leaving Bucky behind as she stepped in. Tony's eyes were now closed as he hit an air guitar solo, making Bucky laugh. " _ Tony _ ! Jarvis, stop the music!"

The room was suddenly silent save for the enthusiastic guitar noises Tony continued to make for a second before opening his eyes.

"Wanda! Hi! Where's-" he turned and saw Bucky, shooting him a blinding grin. "If it isn't the guy with the second best ass in the office."

He couldn't help but laugh at that, shaking his head. "Second? You wish, Stark."

"Hey, don't feel bad, it's a tight margin." With a flick of his hand he dismissed the holograms over his desk. "Did you like the car, prettyboy?" 

" _ Not _ an acceptable nickname, Tony," Wanda interjected, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration.

Bucky choked on air for a second, poorly disguising it as a cough. "Um, yeah, Happy's nice." 

"Totally. Anyway, I've summoned you for two reasons. One, I want that logo you made on a tshirt. A really cool one that I can shoot out of a tshirt gun. A tshirt so cool people will want to chop their arms off just to get one of these prosethetics." 

Bucky wrinkled his nose a little, but nodded. "Okay, cool tshirt. I can do that."

"Second, how do you feel about crab cakes?" 

"What?" 

"I was fighting with Rhodey about this- we can either do crab cakes or those tiny little sausages for the prosthetic launch gala, which of course, you'll be attending or I'll fire you."

" _ What? "  _ Bucky didn't know who Rhodey was, or what gala Tony was going on about. It felt like he'd been slapped in the face with information _. _

He looked back at Wanda, who sighed a little. "He does this sometimes, just humor him."

"Just kidding I won't actually fire you but really, tiny sausages or crab cakes?"

"Uh, crab cakes?" Bucky shrugged a little, not really sure what his opinion counted for in the matter.

"Perfect! Yes! Jarvis, text Rhodey: ' _ cute graphic designer wants crab cakes, bitch _ .'"

Bucky was a little dizzy at this point, still trying to get things in order. "There's gonna be a gala?" 

"Yep," Tony popped the 'p' as he resummoned the holograms on his desk, now displaying a model of an ballroom with banners hanging on the walls, broadcasting Bucky's design. "Two weeks from now exactly."

"Holy shit!" Bucky rushed towards it, smiling from ear to ear as he studied it. "Is this really what it's going to look like?"

"Yep. This is the part where you say, ' _ God, Tony, you're so charitable and handsome I could kiss you! _ ', and then you kiss me."

Bucky looked up to meet Tony's smug expression and scoffed, unable to stop his grin. Without thinking, he launched himself forward, wrapping his arms around Tony in a bear hug. For a second he was still, but then he gingerly wrapped his arms around Bucky as well.

"I'll take that," he squeaked, holding on to Bucky for a second longer before the two let go.

"Thanks, Tony. I mean it." 

"Yeah, yeah. It's my job. Now get your cute butt out of my office."

"Give it a rest, Tony." Even Wanda was smiling now, inclining her head to indicate that she and Bucky should leave.

Bucky saw the model again as he left, almost out with Wanda before having a thought and leaning back into the doorway.

"Can I have a plus-one?" 

"I'm not gonna know half of the people there, kid. Bring whoever you want." 

"Thanks!" As they walked down the hallway, Bucky pulled his phone out, immediately going to text Steve. 

He didn't notice Wanda's knowing look as they headed back to the elevator, too busy hoping that Steve would be able to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's gonna happen at the gala?!?! only next chapter will tell
> 
> wo quick things aboht side characters:
> 
> -wanda's a total romantic so she wants everything to happen organically, she's losing her mind but doesn't want to force it
> 
> -if you squint you can tell that tony is touchstarved as HECK thought i would throw that in for fun


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooh this one is long but we finally get the moment we've been waiting for !!!

Steve was sitting on the couch, watching some bad movie about pirates. Really, he didn't care what was going on at all- there was some swordfight happening, and lots of running, but none of it caught his attention. He just stared dumbly at the screen, a dopey grin on his face. He still felt the warm body pressed against his, heard the soft music and Bucky's softer breathing, smelled his lavender shampoo. 

He couldn't stop thinking about Bucky, or what Wanda had said.  _ Make a move _ . His chest ached at the thought. Bucky wasn't only the love of his life. he was Steve's best friend. What if Steve told Bucky how he felt, and Bucky didn't feel the same way? What if he didn't want to be around Steve anymore?

His phone buzzed, and Steve shook his head a little to clear it. Bucky was kind, and even if (when) he told Steve he didn't love him back, there was no way he'd be a dick about it. Grabbing his phone, Steve couldn't help but smile again- it was a text from Bucky, followed by several more.

_**Buck** : hey punk _

_** Buck ** : theres gonna be a gala to launch the prosthetics line and im invited _

_**Buck** :  2 weeks from today _

_**Buck** : i get to bring a plus-one _

_**Buck** :  got a suit? _

Steve would never understand why Bucky blatantly refused to use capital letters, or sent his texts in little staccato bursts instead of one paragraph, but it was just one more thing that made him adorable. The smile didn't leave Steve's face as he responded.

_**Me** :  You want me to go to the gala with you? _

_**Buck** :  yes u punk do u want to go or not _

_**Me** :  Will there be free food? _

_**Buck** :  i hate u _

_**Buck** :  im the only snack ur gonna need _

Steve burst into laughter at that. Even though he was teasing Bucky, his heart leapt at the idea of going to the gala with him. Like a  date . Making Bucky happy and supporting his career was the main reason he was so excited, but a small, horny part of him knew the last message had been true. Seeing Bucky all dolled up in a suit (not to mention that  ass is slacks) was not something Steve would pass up for the world.

_**Me** : Alright, I'm sold. _

_**Buck** : are u aware that u text like a grandpa?_

_**Me** : How very dare you?_

_**Buck** :  case in point grandpa _

He snorted at the message, about to reply when he saw that he was getting a call from Sam. When Sam called, ignoring it was just asking form a million more calls, so Steve picked up.

"Hey."

The voice on the other end was playfully urgent, starting to speak as soon as Steve was done. "You, me, Clint, Nat, and your boytoy. Beer. Vodka. Henny. Getting shitfaced." 

"Bucky is _not_ my boytoy," Steve replied indignantly,thanking the gods that Sam couldn't see that his face had turned cherry red.

"The fact that you knew who I was talking about proves that he is, in fact, your boytoy. Anyway, drinks tonight?" 

Steve's plans for the night had been to eat shitty food, watch more pirate movies, and reminesce about dancing with Bucky, but he supposed he could push that back.

"Yeah, alright. Is everybody in already?" 

"Clint and Nat are coming, and I assumed you and Bucky would be having freaky furniture-breaking sex right now, so you could ask him."

" We're not -" He sighed, deciding not even to dignify that with a response. "He's not home right now, but I'll text him."

"Alright, loverboy. We're going to Hydra tonight, I'm picking you up at seven." 

Steve sighed again, running a hand through his hair. "You take years off my life, Wilson." 

"That would explain why you act like you're ninety, Rogers. Later!" He could practically hear the toothy grin on Sam's face as the line clicked, and his screen flashed back to his texts with Bucky.

_**Me** :  Nat, Sam, and Clint want to go out for drinks tonight. You in? _

It took a couple minutes for Bucky to respond. Despite the fact that a hole was just blown in a pirate ship on the tv screen, Steve kept glancing at his phone for a response, and rushed to grab it when he heard it buzz.

_**Buck** :  cant :( have to design a cool tshirt for tony _

_**Buck** :  u should go tho !! have fun ! _

Steve felt himself deflate a little when Bucky said he wasn't coming, but tried his best to shake it off; he knew Bucky had to work. His eyes flicked back to the ' tony ' at the end of the first message- since when was Bucky on a first-name basis with Tony Stark?

_**Me** : That sucks. And do you mean Tony like Tony Stark Tony? _

_**Buck** :  :((( _

_**Buck** : also yeah lmao_

_**Buck** :  today he said i have the second best ass in the office apparently hes first _

_**Buck** :  idk what this man is on im definitely first _

_**Buck** :  headed home now maybe ill catch u on ur way out _

Steve bristled a bit when he read the messages- Tony Stark had said that Bucky had a nice ass? It wasn't surprising to him that a billionare playboy found Bucky attractive- he was beautiful and perfect and kind and probably everything that Stark wasn't. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second before writing a response.

_**Me** :  _ _There's no way you're not first_.

_Crap_.  Did that sound too flirty? It was time for Steve to stop texting before he said anything more stupid.

_** Me: ** See you soon (maybe?) _

He put his phone down and flopped backwards against the couch.

No matter how hard Steve tried, he couldn't douse the little possessive fire in his chest, the desire to keep Bucky as far away from Stark as possible. He knew it was twisted, jealous, completely uncalled for because he and Bucky weren't even together, but he couldn't stop it. He tried to push it down and found himself unsuccessful, so he turned the tv off. After reading a text from Bucky to the group chat explaining that he couldn't come (met with several frowny face emojis from Clint, childish insults from Sam, and death threats from Natasha) Steve decided to channel his frustration into trying to piece together an outfit. It was already six, and Steve had probably the worst fashion sense in the world.

At six thirty, Steve was knee-deep in shirts and sweaters, already having decided on a pair of blue jeans that Bucky had once told him gave off a 'sexy lumberjack vibe'. However, he was now ransacking his own closet without a shirt looking for something that would go with them. He felt like he was trying to have a conversation in a language he didn't speak- he knew whatever he picked would look wrong.

He heard rattling from the front door, and something inside him lit up- Bucky had always been terrible with his key. Eventually it banged open, and he heard Bucky's heavy combat boots as he walked into the foyer.

"Where's my date?" His voice was teasing, but it sent a thrill through Steve. After a bit of shuffling, he saw Bucky standing in the open doorway. Steve had a black shirt in one hand and a green one in the other, and was still awkwardly half-in half-out of his closet.

"Hey, Buck." He shot him a nervous grin, the sight of Bucky looking all cute making him forget for a second that he wasn't wearing a shirt.

Bucky let out something like a ' _ unh _ ,' eyes on Steve's bare torso. His eyes were adorably wide, plush lips slightly open for a second before he snapped them shut.

Steve looked down, eyes widening as he finally remembered that he was half-naked and that Bucky was looking right at his chest. 

Steve was proud of his body, went to the gym and ate healthy to keep it in shape. That meant received a few stares here and there, which he'd grown used to. But being looked at like that by  Bucky ? That was a completely different ball game, one that had him had him frozen in place.

Before he could say anything, Bucky rolled his eyes, seemingly having collected himself. 

"Sit down, Rogers." He gestured to the bed, walking over to the closet. He gave Steve a little shove so he would move, and then stared at the mess on the ground. "You're hopeless, aren't you?"

Steve, who was now sitting on the bed, shrugged a bit. "A shirt's a shirt, right?" 

" God ." Bucky was now bent over to root through the mess, giving Steve a view so fantastic that it made a fashion lecture almost worth it. "No, Steve, a shirt is not a shirt. It's a  _ statement _ . Try this, and maybe this." Two articles of clothing were thrown back at Steve, both whacking him.

"Do you even know anything about fashion, Buck?" Steve picked them up curiously, deciding to take a leap of faith and pull one shirt on.

The reply came when Steve had the shirt over his head. "Absolutely not, but I'm almost  certain you know less. And I think I've done a good job." 

Steve hated to feed into Bucky's ego, but when he looked in the mirror he had to agree. It was a burgundy henley, one that hugged the muscles of his torso and had always made him feel a little insecure. But as he analysed his reflection, he felt good. He looked good. Buckymoved behind him, looking at Steve's reflection before turning him around by the shoulders.

"Hm." Bucky tilted his head to the side, studying Steve like he was something in a museum. Stepping forward, he placed his hands on Steve's chest, nimble fingers undoing the top button. When he let go, he looked satisfied with his handiwork. "Perfect. You look like an all-American beefcake, Stevie." 

He felt himself turn the same colour of his shirt, releasing the breath he'd been holding when Bucky touched him. "I don't know about that, Buck." 

"Trust me. You look good." The smile Bucky offered didn't quite reach his eyes, but he ruffled Steve's hair affectionately before turning to leave. 

"Thanks," Steve managed as soon as he'd recovered from the touch.

"No problem, pal," he heard Bucky call back,  followed by the sound of him collapsing into the couch. 

Steve tried his best to clean up his closet, and did a pretty good job. By the time Sam texted him, it looked like a small hurricane had blown through his clothes rather than a full-on typhoon. With a quick goodbye to Bucky, who was now engrossed in whatever was on his tablet, he headed down to where Sam's car was parked.

Everybody was already in the car, with Sam driving, Nat in the front and Clint in the back. Sam insisted that the group always carpool whenever they went out together (' _ climate change isn't a joke, bitch! _ '), so the group of them piling into his Kia wasn't an unfamiliar situation. The only thing missing was Bucky, who usually sat sandwiched between Steve and Clint. 

_ Bucky _ .

The spots on Steve's chest and shoulders were tingling the way his skin always did when Bucky touched him, and that song was still playing in his head- what was it called?  _ Prelude to a Kiss _ . He could spend the rest of his life dancing in that kitchen with Bucky, even with the pancake smoking behind them. The whole thing had been perfect.

Despite his best efforts, he couldn't wipe the stupid smile off his face as he slid into the car next to Clint. He was met with a chorus of greetings, all of which soared right over his head. He responded with a dreamy 'hey guys,' of his own, and was only broken out of his reverie by a gasp from Clint and Natasha turning slightly in her seat.

"What?" He felt his ears turning pink as he saw Sam's eyes in the rearview mirror looking at him as well.

Nat smirked at him and Sam raised his eyebrows, Clint being the first one to break the silence.

"Oh my god. You guys totally did the nasty, didn't you? That look is a look reserved for the end of the world's longest era of pining and sexual tension." 

Steve sputtered for a second, caught completely off guard. " What ?"

"Oh, come on, Rogers." Natasha was now fully turned around. "Messy hair? Dopey smile? There is no way on Earth that Bucky Barnes didn't just totally rock your world."

"I-" before he could get anything out, Sam interjected.

"Do we need to go furniture shopping? New bed? Couch?  _Dining table_? You're a sick man, Steve."

"Wilson, you better drive, now," He warned, slumping in his seat and dodging Clint's attempt to mockingly caress his face. "I hate you all and I'm not telling you anything." 

Four drinks later, three pairs of eyes were on Steve, who had just told them everything. They were all sitting around a table at Hydra, nursing drinks as Steve told and the rest listened. 

"Wait, what?" Sam finished off his beer, setting it down and furrowing his eyebrows. "So you danced to slow jazz, and you had him all rubbing up against you and stuff, and neither of you thought to rip each other's clothes off?"

"It wasn't like that!" Steve put his hands up in surrender. This was why he could never drink too much around Bucky- drunk Steve was really, really honest. "It was all romantic and stuff and I was talking to him in french even though he didn't understand, and I was just thinking to myself,  _ Steve, if you don't end up marrying this guy I'm going to hate you forever _ . So I think I'm going to hate myself forever, because he's so-" he made a sort of squeezing motion with his hands, unable to articulate his thoughts. "So  _ Bucky _ , and I'm like,  _ woah _ ." 

"Just because he's so  _ Bucky _ doesn't mean you're not so  _ Steve _ ," Clint reasoned as he wrapped his lips around the straw of his cocktail. "You two are like,  _ BuckySteve _ ! Steve and Bucky! You get me, right honey?" He looked to Natasha for help as she sipped her martini. 

"I think what Clint is trying to say is you two are in the same league." She spoke slowly, somehow the least inebriated of the four even though she was the smallest. "He definitely likes you more than you think. What did he call you again?" She gestured with her empty hand as she searched for the word. "A beefstick?" 

"An all-American beefcake," Steve corrected, leaning back in his chair. "What does that even mean?" 

"It means he wants that all-American  _ dick _ !" It was a good thing the bar was loud, because Sam had shouted the line at the top of his lungs. 

The whole table burst into laughter except for Steve, who scowled. 

"But what if he  doesn't ?" He rubbed a hand over his face, sighing. "Am I just supposed to be in love with him for the rest of forever?"

"Well there's the gala, right?" Natasha gave him a friendly shove. "He invited you! You two are gonna be _dates_."

"And you're gonna show Tony Stark who the fucking boss is," Clint added.

It had taken a while for the group to get Steve to circle back to the story once Tony Stark had been mentioned for the first time that night. Steve had gone on a fifteen-minute long tirade about how it wasn't  that great being a billionare and how Steve was probably way taller than Stark and everybody  _ knew _ that Bucky had a cute butt (the story had been derailed for another five minutes while Steve sang praises about it) but that didn't mean Stark was allowed to say anything about it.

"You're gonna sweep him off his feet, man. And then you two will ride off into the sunset on that shitty motorbike of yours." Sam clapped him on the back, making Steve crack a little smile.

"Or he'll ride you into the sunset," Clint added with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows.

"I don't know. I don't even know anything except for that Bucky is my favourite person," Steve announced before chugging the rest of his beer.

"Just wait for the gala, Steve." Natasha steadied the table after Steve slammed down the bottle. "Everything's gonna be perfect."

The night of the gala, Steve was nervous as hell. He stood in the bathroom, fiddling with his tie as he stared at his reflection. He knew they had to go soon, but he was freaked out. Two weeks ago at Hydra, he'd promised his friends that tonight would be the night he made a move.

"Steve, let's go before you choke yourself with that goddamn tie!" Bucky's voice echoed through the apartment, coming from the living room. Yet another thing Steve loved and hated about Bucky was that he never seemed to care what he looked like- it took him a matter of minutes to get ready, and whatever he threw together was always stunning.

"Shut up, jerk! I'm coming." Steve took one more deep breath and pushed open the bathroom door, laughing as he entered the living room.

Bucky was wearing a black suit that complimented Steve's navy one, hair half-up and looking effortlessly gorgeous. However Steve couldn't see either of those things clearly, because Bucky was sprawled across the couch, popping gummi bears into his mouth. He stopped chewing for a second, eyes on Steve. It was probably the light that made it seem like Bucky's eyes swept him from head to toe with interest. The moment was broken when Bucky grabbed a gummi bear from the bag and lobbed it at Steve.

"Catch, punk." The speed at which he threw it was not exactly catch-friendly, so the bear whacked Steve square on the eyelid.

"God, why do I live with such an asshole?" He rubbed his eye, ignoring Bucky's maniacal laughter. "I thought you said we have to leave." 

"Yeah, yeah, alright," Bucky said through a mouthful of green gummis (Steve knew that green had always been his favourite for some reason). He swallowed and stood up, Steve suddenly given better view of him.

_You're out of your depth, Rogers_ ,  the voice in his head told him.

Dammit, the voice was right. Bucky's suit was well-tailored, simple and elegant. It hugged his body in all the right places, the blazer pulling in at the waist and then flaring out just a bit around perfect hips. He wasn't wearing a tie, and the top button of the shirt was undone, exposing just a bit of collarbone. 

"Ready to go, stud?" His little grin widened as Steve offered his arm.

"Your chariot awaits."

The two of them went downstairs together arm in arm, both unable to stop grinning. When they got to the bike, Bucky huffed at Steve.

"Your stupid bike is gonna ruin my hair." 

"Buck, if you don't put on a helmet and we crash, you will die, and it will be gross."

"Is dying a dramatic death worse than showing up to a gala looking like shit?" Bucky's nose wrinkled. Steve really should've been sick of coercing Bucky to get on the bike any time they took it anywhere, but honestly, he wasn't. 

"You'll still be the prettiest princess there," he reasoned, only half sarcastic.

"You're the worst." Nevertheless, Bucky grabbed the helmet, trying to put it on his head as gently as possible as Steve started the bike.

"Hop on, your highness," he called over the rumble of the engine.

Steve could practically feel Bucky's dramatic eyeroll behind him as he climbed on, wrapping his arms around Steve. Hands slipped under his jacket, fingers digging into the muscle of Steve's abdomen through the light fabric of his shirt.

By some miracle of god Steve got them to the venue safely, even with Bucky pressed against him and letting out little gasps when they sped up or made a particularly sharp turn. It felt kind of ridiculous to give his motorcycle to a man who'd just gotten back from parking a Rolls-Royce, and Bucky's inability to stop giggling at the valet's confused expression made it tough for Steve to keep a straight face either. 

When the two finally made it inside, the laughter in Steve completely died as he felt a rush of air leave his body. The place was beautiful. High ceilings and pillars made the huge hall look huger, polished marble floors glittering. 

But what Steve's eye's were drawn to were the sky blue banners that were hung all over the room, adorned with a familiar design-  Bucky's design. He'd seen glimpses of it on Bucky's tablet in the apartment, but never before the whole thing staring him in the face until now. 

It was perfect. The silver arm, the clean lines, the neat lettering- the slogan was a bit much, making Steve scoff, but it was kind of perfect in it's own bizzarre way. Turning to Bucky, Steve saw that he was staring too, lips parted in awe.

"Holy shit, Steve." His eyes didn't leave the banners but he reached to grab Steve's forearm tightly. "It's-  _ wow _ ."

"Yeah. Wow is right." Steve was now ignoring the room, eyes on Bucky's elegant nose and cute little dimple on his chin and long lashes that brushed his cheeks when he blinked. 

The hand on his arm slipped down into his own, small and warm and making his heart skip as Bucky began to lead him through the crowd. They made small talk with a couple people Bucky knew, Steve getting used to introducing himself. After working through a sea of shiny plastic people that Steve found somewhat frightening, they spotted Wanda.

She looked gorgeous in a bright red dress and matching red lipstick, waves of brown hair tumbling down her back. When she saw them she smiled, making her way over.

Once she'd given them both hugs, she stepped back to give them both a once-over. "You two can dress!" She nodded her approval. "Who knew?" 

Bucky pointed an playfully accusing finger at her as he jumped to their defense. "I'll have you know I'm a fashion guru in the making."

"I'm surprised you didn't just show up in Steve's sweater," she teased, laughing at Steve's cheeks, which were bright red, and Bucky's scowl.

"Fuck off, Wanda."

"What, need something to drink and then you'll be nicer?" She booped Bucky's nose, and he was unable to stop himself from smiling. Nose boops were one of Bucky's secret weaknesses, and Steve was impressed that Wanda knew that. He also knew that he wanted a drink now that Wanda had mentioned it.

"Do either of you want a drink?" Steve looked at Bucky and then Wanda, who held up the one she already had. "Buck, want something?" 

"I'll just have whatever you're having," he replied.

Nodding, Steve made his way to the bar, just missing Wanda's excited gushing about the two of them. 

He managed to get himself in line for the bar, but it was crowded all the way around. He found himself next to a pretty blonde woman, one who seemed like the most shiny and frightening of all so far. She flashed him a smile that almost seemed preadatory.

"Hi, I don't think we've met." The crowd at the bar was busy, but Steve was sure that she didn't have to be standing as close as she was. "I'm Sharon."

He reached out a hand to meet hers, shaking it somewhat awkwardly due to their proximity. "I'm Steve."

"You don't work for Stark, do you? I'm sure I would have noticed you by now if you did." She touched his chest as she said it, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

"Um, no. I know somebody who does, though. A graphic designer." At this point Steve was getting uncomfortable, and just wanted the attention off of him. 

"Really?" She raised her eyebrows. "Are you two, like, here on a date?" 

"No, it's not like that. Just friends." Steve winced internally at how sad his response sounded, and then winced some more when he realised Sharon would probably take that as encouragement. It seemed like she did, keeping her hand on his chest.

"If you can't find your friend, maybe you and I could have a drink together."

Steve very much did  not want that. The woman seemed nice enough, but tonight had to be perfect. Tonight was for him and Bucky.

"I'm sorry, I really have to get back to him," he replied apologetically. Unfortunately, Sharon wasn't easily deterred.

"What, Steve, don't have time for one drink? I'm sure your friend can occupy himself for a little bit. Where is he?" 

"I- uh, he's right there." He pointed to where Bucky and Wanda had been before he looked, frowning when he found them absent. "He's here somewhere. Brunette, black suit, about-" he tried to gesture with his hand to the area on his body Bucky would come up to, but Sharon seemed to be distracted.

Her was open in a little 'o', and she was looking in the direction of the dance floor. She eventually yanked on Steve's sleeve, getting him to follow her gaze. "Who is that guy dancing with Tony Stark?" 

"Uh- that would be him." Steve's expression now matched Sharon's, surprised and just a little jealous, if for a completely different reason.

He could see even from behind that they were looking at Bucky, his soft wavy hair and long legs and that perfect ass. He could also see somebody's Armani-clad arm wrapped around Bucky's waist, pulling him a little too close for Steve's liking. He then noticed Tony Stark's stupid coiffed hair and stupid blue sunglasses that he wore inside, just visible in front of Bucky. He could see where their hands were laced together as they moved to the music.

_ None of your business, Rogers, dammit .  _

But for some reason he couldn't take his eyes off of them, watching as Tony dipped Bucky playfully. When he was down, Steve could see Bucky's face, that face that he'd grown to love so much it hurt, laughing with somebody else. 

It made Steve want to punch a wall or start crying or maybe both, but instead he settled for ordering one scotch and walking away from Sharon (maybe a bit rudely) to the nearest balcony.

"So?" Wanda looked at Steve as he left, and then back at Bucky. "Is the world finally getting the couple they deserve?"

"We're here as friends, Wanda." Bucky watched Steve as he went, moving somehow gracefully through the crowd despite his size. He eventually tore his eyes away, looking back at an incredulous Wanda.

"He looks at you like you hung the fucking moon, Bucky!"

"No, he looks at me- like  friends look at  friends ," Bucky shot back, wishing more than anything that Wanda was right.

"I'm going to have an infinite supply of told-you-sos when you two finally get together," she huffed, finishing her drink. She then looked over Bucky's shoulder, sighing. "Here comes trouble."

Bucky barely heard her. His eyes had found their way back to Steve, who was now at the bar, and his heart was plummeting into his stomach. There was a woman with him, so close that they were almost toe to toe. He felt a twist in his gut when she touched his chest, leaning even closer. She looked fucking desperate, but for some reason Steve hadn't moved. He said something to her that Bucky couldn't hear, and she smiled. 

Bucky looked back at Wanda, unable to watch anymore. He wasn't the jealous type. And even if he was, Steve wasn't his boyfriend, so it didn't matter. That didn't change the fact that it fucking stung. 

"What were you saying?" 

Before she could respond, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He didn't know why he was surprised in the slightest to see Tony Stark dressed in a designer suit and a stupid pair of sunglasses, looking like the cat who'd gotten the cream.

"Hi, Tony." He gave a tentative smile, noticing the appraising look Stark gave him.

"Barnes, we're dancing," he announced, looping his arm through Bucky's and starting to drag him towards the dance floor.

Bucky looked back to Wanda for help, but she shrugged, laughing a little as she moved to talk to a different group of people.

Bucky couldn't dance with Tony right now, he was here with- Steve. But last time Bucky had checked, Steve seemed to be perfectly occupied with the blonde woman at the bar. How long was Bucky going to spend pining after the same guy, a guy who obviously didn't want him back? Letting go was the healthy thing to do- one dance with a guy that seemed to actually like Bucky definitely wouldn't hurt.

Once the pair had gotten to the dance floor, Tony put one hand on his waist and offered the other to Bucky. Laughing at his at his boldness, Bucky followed suit, lacing his fingers through Tony's as he placed a hand on his shoulder.

He gasped a little when he felt himself being tugged closer, and scoffed at the satisfied smirk on Tony's face.

"I'm not going to bite you Barnes. Not unless you want me to. This is a perfectly acceptable distance." 

"God." Bucky didn't even dignify the overused line with a response. "Should we really be dancing at all?" Bucky allowed Tony to lead, the two moving to the slow music of the band.

That earned him a raised eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, this is your gala, and I work for you. Shouldn't you be, I don't know, mingling with shareholders instead of dancing with an employee?" 

Tony laughed a little, dipping Bucky in his arms. "What's the point of being a genius billionare playboy philanthropist if I can't do whatever I want whenever I want?" 

Bucky couldn't help but laugh, Tony pulling him up smoothly. "I guess you're right." When he was standing again, he took a quick look around the room. There were more than a few pair of eyes on them, people whispering and nodding in their direction. 

Tony seemed to notice him looking, and grinned. "You get used to being looked at. That's the tradeoff, I guess."

"So you're the world's richest zoo animal?" 

They both snickered at that, Tony shrugging. "Yeah, I guess."

Just then, Bucky spotted a gorgeous redhead in a blue dress carving her way through the crowd, staring at Tony like she was going to burn a hole in him. When she approached them, Tony gave her a sheepish smile. 

"Barnes, this is Pepper. My zookeeper. Pepper, this is Barnes. Designed the logo."

"Oh. Hi." Bucky smiled at her, feeling sympathetic. He couldn't imagine how stressful trying to get Tony under control on the daily must be.

"Hi. Nice job, it looks great." She smiled back, and before Bucky could thank her she was glaring daggers at Tony. "You need to be talking to Shield about military tech right now."

"I can't do business now," Tony whined. He hadn't let go of Bucky, trying to steer the two of them away from Pepper as the song changed.

"I think you gotta go do business right now, Stark," Bucky suggested as he was whisked across the dance floor, more than a little worried for their lives as he heard Pepper's heels clicking on the marble floors. 

"No, I like this song." 

Shortly, Pepper caught up with them, and Bucky pulled himself apart from Tony so as to avoid her wrath. 

"If you don't talk to Coulson right now, he's gonna pull his investments." 

" _ Oh _ ." Tony's eyebrows shot up as he began to scan the room. "Uh, where is he?" 

"Waiting by the bar." Pepper sounded more than exasparated, pointing.

Tony began to dash off, ducked back to give Bucky a little kiss on the cheek, and then dashed off again.

"God, that man's an idiot." Pepper laughed, and Bucky joined in.

"He's definitely-  eccentric." 

" You think? Last month he went AWOL, when I finally found him he'd been building a roller skating rink in Zimbabwe. Said he needed to 'take his mind off things'." 

"You're kidding." 

"I wish. I'm basically a glorified babysitter," she confessed with a grin.

"I definitely don't envy you." Bucky returned it.

Pepper tapped an earpiece that Bucky hadn't noticed before, furrowing her eyebrows as she listened. "Dammit. It was nice meeting you, Barnes, but I have to go."

Before he could get out a goodbye, Pepper was strutting off, cursing at somebody in her earpiece. Suddenly he found himself alone, surrounded by people who were talking and laughing, and thinking about Steve. 

It kept replaying in his head, the image of Steve and that woman at the bar. He needed some air. Looking around, he saw a large pair of doors opening to a balcony, and headed that way.

When he got there, Bucky froze. Of course. Leaning against the railing looking out at the massive garden was Steve. He was facing away from the door, but Bucky would be able to recognize the broad expanse of his back and that head of slightly shaggy blond hair anywhere. He took a deep breath, not quite sure whether or not to go inside.

Steve must have heard him, because before Bucky could make a choice, he turned.

Just a look over his shoulder was enough to make the air catch in Bucky's throat. Steve's expression was unreadable their eyes met, full of emotion that Bucky couldn't quite place- sadness? Anger? Determination? Fear? He looked hauntingly beautiful, and it made Bucky's heart beat double-time. 

He was the first to speak, and cursed himself at how fragile his voice sounded.

"Hi, Steve."

At that, Steve cracked a little smile, eyes twinkling. "Hey, Buck." His voice came out low and rough, and dammit but now was not the time for Bucky's stupid gay brain to be thirsting over the guy he'd  _ just _ decided he needed to let go of but he couldn't stop himself from shivering a little.

Walking forward across the vast balcony, Bucky stood next to Steve. He put his back to the railing, letting one elbow take his weight as he grabbed Steve's scotch off the ledge with the other hand.

"What-"

Steve stopped abruptly as Bucky brought the glass to his lips, taking a swig. He probably imagined the way Steve's eyes flicked to his throat as he swallowed.

"You said you were gonna get me a drink, punk. S'only fair." He shot Steve a little grin, setting it down. For some reason, that made his expression cloud over.

"Looked over and you seemed pretty busy to me." Steve's voice had an edge to it, making Bucky frown.

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"It's supposed to mean that I'm surprised you and Stark aren't off banging in a wine cellar or something." 

Steve was a lot of things. He was a stubborn, sarcastic, son of a bitch who challenged Bucky in ways nobody else ever had. But he'd never been  mean before.

"I- _what_?" That was all Bucky managed to get out, his brain refusing to respond for a couple seconds. After that couple of seconds, he saw red. "What, like you weren't gonna fuck the bimbo who was hanging all over you at the bar?" 

"Sharon?" Steve's eyebrows shot up like Bucky had just said the most ridiculous thing in the world.

"Oh, sorry,  _ Sharon _ ." Bucky's voice oozed with sarcasm. He had absolutely no clue what they were even fighting about, but he knew he was angry. "You're trying to tell me that you think I shouldn't have been dancing with Stark, like  _ Sharon _ wasn't half a minute away from ripping your fucking shirt off there?"

"Oh, fuck you. That's not the same and you know it." Now Steve and Bucky were fully facing each other, Bucky noticing just how tall and broad and  powerful Steve looked when all that power was directed at him. "Stark has been after you for weeks now, it's always,  _Tonythinks I'm pretty, Tony sent me a car, Tony said I have a nice ass._ I'm surprised the guy hasn't hired a fucking children's choir to serenade you yet." 

_ What the fuck was happening right now? _

Only Steve Rogers could create such a melting pot of feelings inside Bucky, make him throw logic and reasoning out the window in an argument (which was rapidly becoming a full-blown screaming match) that made absolutely no sense.

"Where do you get off on telling me what to do, Rogers?" Bucky grabbed the glass of scotch, throwing it all back in one gulp and setting down empty a little harder than he meant to. "You're not-" he faltered, meeting Steve's eyes and noticing that they were just as passionate and confused as Bucky's probably were. "You're not my boyfriend," he finished softly, turning on his heel to go back in. "Who knows," he called without turning back, "maybe I will bang Stark in a wine cellar!" 

Nothing about this made sense, or was even a little bit fair. At all. Bucky was stuck in love with stupid idiot meathead Steve, and couldn't get over him if he tried. Steve had been flirting with some girl like Bucky didn't exist, and then decided to try to go off on Bucky because somebody else liked him? What Bucky needed was to get Steve out of his system, even though it felt like love for the man thrummed through his veins with each beat of his heart.

It was time for Bucky Barnes to get his shit together.

Just when he was starting to get his shit together, Bucky felt a huge hand close around his wrist, tugging him back away from the door. He was spun around so he was flush against Steve, one hand braced on his firm chest.

"Just what the  _ fuck _ do you think you're-"

Bucky barely had time to take in the fire in Steve's eyes before he was leaning down, cupping Bucky's face in his hand, and kissing the rest of the sentence off his lips. 

_ Oh _ .

It was hot and urgent and perfect, Steve pressing his lips against Bucky's with an intensity that made his knees weak. Bucky was in shock for a split-second, thinking he might faint. The contrast of Steve's beard scratching his skin and his soft, warm lips on Bucky's sent the a thrill down from his head to his toes that shocked him into action- there was only one thing to do. He began to kiss back with fervor, but before he could do much, Steve pulled back.

His eyes were wide with absolute terror. He stepped away and then stilled, like Bucky was a deer in headlights that he didn't want to spook. 

Bucky's brain was apparently taking a vacation day, because he could not make head or tail of anything that was going on. 

"Steve?" He looked up, furrowing his brows. 

"Buck, I-" his eyes squeezed shut. "Shit. Buck, I think I might be in love with you." 

" _What_? " There must have been something in that scotch, because there was absolutely no way on earth that this was happening.

"I don't have a chance, do I?" Steve slowly opened his eyes, looking absolutely devastated. "I'm sorry. I don't wanna make things awkward, I just needed to tell you at some point. I guess that's why I'm being a dick, I just wanted you to dance with m-"

"Are you kidding me, Rogers?" Bucky barked out a laugh, shaking his head incredulously. "You're a goddamn idiot."

Steve winced a little, probably about to get more weepy and apologetic. Before he could, Bucky grabbed his tie, using it to pull Steve towards him. 

"Buck?" 

"Idiot, Rogers. Total idiot." 

Steve just looked confused, so Bucky laughed again and yanked him down by his tie, tilting his head to meet him in a kiss.

This time it was Steve who was surprised for a second, but it didn't take him long to get with the program. He wrapped an arm around Bucky's waist, tangling the other in his hair. Bucky was definitely going to give him shit for ruining it later, but for now settled on grabbing his tie harder and throwing his other arm around Steve's neck. 

He gasped as he felt a little bite on his bottom lip, and let out an embarassingly breathy noise when he felt Steve lick into his mouth.

Again, Steve pulled back. But this time he was beaming, pressing his forehead against Bucky's. "So, uh, you-" Steve trailed off, meeting Bucky's eyes.

"Yeah, punk. I do."

Steve eyed him with caution, seemingly unconvinced. "What about Stark?"

"Stark?" Bucky snorted. "He's nice and all, but I've been head-over-heels for you since we met. Thought you didn't feel the same and I was just gonna have to live with it. Move on, you know?" He shrugged, smiling a bit at the shock on Steve's face.

" _ Since we met _ ?"

"Yeah, since we met." Bucky felt his cheeks heat up a bit, suddenly nervous. "What?" 

"You know, Wanda told me that we were both being stubborn idiots, and I'm starting to think maybe she was right." Steve tugged playfully at Bucky's hair, making him giggle. "I fell for you when I first saw you, Buck. Fell even harder when I found out what an asshole you are. Figured you were out of my league." 

"Out of your league?" Bucky straightened up, not moving from Steve's arms. His heart was fucking soaring now that he knew Steve liked him back, but the absolute bullshit that he was spouting made him shake his head. " _ Out of your league? _ You're such a punk, Rogers, I actually cannot believe it."

"What, I'm a punk because I'm sweet on you and wasn't sure if you'd like me back?" He grinned a little as Bucky nodded.

"Yep." 

"Well then that makes you a jerk, for deciding that you needed to get over me before you even told me how you felt," he reasoned.

"Incorrect." Bucky then decided that they weren't close enough, rectifying the issue by sliding closer and resting his head on Steve's chest. Steve hummed in approval, scratching lightly at Bucky's scalp in a way that made him let out something akin to a purr. "Because," Bucky continued, playing with Steve's tie, "I kissed you. And you didn't kiss me back. So I just assumed you didn't like me that way. Hurt like hell, but that's how it is sometimes, right?"

"Wait, are you talking about after Nat and Clint's wedding?" The hand on Bucky's back was rubbing gently, and the fact that he could have been in Steve's arms like this  months ago makes Bucky want to travel back in time and sucker punch his past self.

"Yeah, Nat and Clint's wedding." Bucky scoffed. "You should've seen your face after I did it, you looked like I'd just killed your dog."

Steve didn't laugh. Instead he removed the hand from Bucky's hair, using it to tilt his chin up. Once again Bucky was struck by how fucking perfect Steve was. His brows were furrowed in concern, lips turned in a frown as he gave Bucky his best  _ Steve-Rogers-is-dissapointed-in-you  _ look.

"What?" Bucky frowned back, once again thrown for a loop.

"You were plastered, Buck. You kept trying to feel me up while singing Fergie. I wasn't gonna take advantage." 

"Wait,  _ what _ ?" It seemed like the thousandth time Bucky was saying that, but this was just the cherry on top of their sundae of poor communication. "This whole time I thought you weren't into me, and it was just because you wanted to be a  _ gentleman ?" _

"Uh, yes?" Steve shrugged a bit, laughing as Bucky smacked his chest with an open palm. "You didn't make it easy on me, Buck. Looked so fucking pretty that night. And there you were, kissing me like you're gonna die without it and then giving me those big fucking puppy eyes when I try to be the good guy?"

Bucky's lips parted in surprise, as much as they could with Steve's grip on his chin. "I was convinced that you were disgusted." 

"Disgusted?" Steve laughed again, and Bucky's head was still spinning. "Was the most miserable night of my life, Buck. Thought it was just the liquor that made you so-  affectionate . I spent the whole time trying to remind myself that you didn't really want me and praying to the gods of unwanted boners that I could keep myself under control with your hands all over me."

Bucky had never felt such a potent mix of anger and love, couldn't decide whether he wanted to kiss Steve until he couldn't breathe or hit him with an uppercut for being so clueless. However, his mind wandered back to one detail that didn't quite make sense.

"What about the woman? The woman at the bar?" 

"She kind of tried to maul me, but she's not really my type," Steve responded, tucking a stray lock of hair between Bucky's ear.

"Oh yeah?" Bucky grinned, looking up defiantly. "And what exactly is your type, Rogers?"

He feigned consideration before looking back at Bucky with a twinkle in his eyes. "Always had a thing for bitchy brunettes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also if you're here please take a look at this list of resources to help support the black lives matter movement!! blacklivesmatter.carrd.co/


	7. Epilogue

Steve parted his lips, allowing Bucky to reach down and place the joint betweent them. He took a deep drag, blowing the smoke up from where he lay on the ground, head in Bucky's lap.

Bucky scratched lightly at his scalp with one hand and took back the joint with the other, taking a drag before passing it up to Sam. The group had been sitting on the roof of Bucky and Steve's building in comfortable silence for a while, everybody lost in their own heads while they listened to the sounds of traffic below them.

"Buck, I have to tell you something." 

That earned a collective groan from the group, and a little laugh from Bucky.

"What, Stevie?" He tilted his head down, a little smile on his face as his hair tumbled forward.

"Please don't tell us what, Stevie," Nat groaned, hitting her forehead against Clint's shoulder.

"Are you kidding?" Clint took the joint from Sam, inhaling and then exhaling as he spoke. "We've been waiting for these two to get together since the Stone Age, I would personally like to hear  _ what _ , Stevie."

Normally Steve would be a little embarassed at the ribs from the group, but right now he was too relaxed, eyes hooded, focused on Bucky- Bucky, who looked like a goddamn angel staring down at him.

Nimble fingers carded through Steve's hair, Bucky humming softly. His other hand scratched at Steve's beard, making him sigh contently and let his eyes fall closed. 

"Just wanted to say," he murmured, "that you're so pretty Buck. Got the prettiest eyes and eyelashes and nose and hair and everything, and also you smell good all the time. And you're so sweet,  _ the sweetest _ , and you're my best guy. My  very best guy." 

Natasha made a retching noise, Clint letting out an ' _ aww _ '. Sam was seemingly in his own world, staring off into space without regard for any of them.

Bucky beamed, leaning down to place a little kiss on Steve's nose. "You're my best guy too, handsome." 

"You think I'm handsome?" Steve grinned, Bucky now just a couple inches away from his face.

"Yes I think you're handsome, punk. Let you do me on the couch yesterday." 

For some reason, that was what brought Sam back to the land of the living.

" _ The couch _ ? You two defiled the couch?" He let his head fall back against the brick wall in agony. "Why, god, why? I loved that couch!" 

"Stevie couldn't keep it in his pants, that's why," Bucky responded through giggles as he looked down at Steve. "He just-"

"Nope!" Natasha shook her head, practically shouting as she cut Bucky off. "Nope, no thanks, don't need the story of why none of us can ever sit on your couch again."

"Wait until I tell you about the kitchen table," Bucky teased, eliciting various sounds of disgust from the group. "Stevie may seem like a sweetheart, but I swear to god this guy is an anima- _ mmph _ !"

Partially to shut him up and partially just because he could, Steve had grabbed him by the back of the neck, pulling him down to crash their lips together in a messy kiss. He was sure the group was having some sort of dramatic reaction, but was too caught up in sweeping his tongue into Bucky's mouth, and tugging on his hair the way he knew would make him gasp. They were interrupted by Natasha shouting, loud enough for Steve to hear her even with Bucky's mouth slotted against his.

"Boo! Worst rom-com ever!"

Bucky pulled up gently for air, leaning back against the wall as he erupted in giggles at Natasha's heckling. Steve turned his head towards her to give her the most murderous look he could muster.

"I'm sorry," she managed through her own laughter, "did I step on your moment?" 

Before Steve knew it, the whole group was cracking up, and he found himself unable to hold the scowl for long when Bucky reached down and began to tickle his ribs. 

Finally, everything felt right.


End file.
